


This Unfamiliar Road-

by J3 (CaseMatthews)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abused Dean, Abused Sam, Alpha Castiel, Alpha Gabriel, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Assassin Castiel, Assassin Gabriel, Assassination, Assassins & Hitmen, Forced Incest, Forced Prostitution, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mpreg, Murder, Omega Dean, Omega Sam, Rape, Underage Rape/Non-con, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-01-16 22:17:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1363729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaseMatthews/pseuds/J3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean Winchester have lived with Alastair Gray for a long time. Alastair Gray is a criminal. Castiel and Gabriel are assassins. You do the math.<br/>OR<br/>Alastair Gray is big in the prostitution world of omega's, his own pair in the form of Sam and Dean Winchester. Castiel and Gabriel Novak have worked as assassins for most of their lives. When they take out Alastair they come across two omegas they didn't know they would be meeting...<br/>Alpha/Beta/Omega.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Prayer You Can Borrow

**Author's Note:**

> Updates will be coming soon and I have recently edited this chapter, though not drastically.  
> Please comment.  
> Warning for rape in this chapter and implied, forced incest. Hey, no one ever said it was gonna be nice...  
> Pleeeeaaase comment!!!
> 
> The fics title is now from the song Home by Phillip Phillips.

It’s another normal day for Castiel Novak.

Well, it is in the fact that today, as with a countless amount of others, Castiel will be invading whorehouse number dot dot dot. He’ll be joined by his colleagues and he’ll be expected to do his job - a routine thing that’s still managed to carry excitement for him after ten years on it. He’ll finish up quickly and smoothly, he’ll drink a beer with Gabriel because that’s what they do. And he’ll go to bed, safe and happy in the knowledge that just a few more alpha bastards in the world won’t be pimping out or raping underage and non-consenting omegas. Because they’ll be dead. Because Castiel, one of the best in the business, will have killed them. And he will have done so without regret and with a certain amount of smugness that goes with a satisfying job.

It’s different in that today, they will raid the home of one infamous Alastair Gray.

Mr Gray, a man so far outside of the law, yet so far into media speculation, is a repulsive human being. Castiel has come across his proceeding reputation a few times in his travels, his name has cropped up in numerous ‘visitor books’ in several brothels the country over, and Castiel has never been allowed to get to him. He’s mentioned the name a few times, step foot out of his solid position of mindless attack dog and informed his superior’s. But the name Alastair Gray had only appeared on his ‘kill list’ two days ago.

Alastair is a man that Castiel would _personally_ like to meet.

Castiel Novak doesn’t get personal.

But he would introduce himself to Alastair Gray. He wants Alastair Gray to know just who ends his repulsive existance. Castiel will watch the life drain from his cold, dead eyes.

***

It’s a normal day for Dean Winchester.

Or, you know, so he hopes. It is Alastair, after all. No one can ever really _expect_ anything from him, every day tends to be different than the one before and a week before that.

Yesterday, Dean had spent all his time on the floor of the library with Sammy deciding which Weasley was the best and possibly most attractive. Alastair had been out on some business transaction thing and he’d taken Azazel with him for 'moral support' something or other, so they'd both been blissfully free for those precious hours. Days like that are ridiculously rare and they both basked in it for as long as they possibly could.

The week before, Alastair had tied Dean to his bed and marked his skin with some new magical contraption until jagged, angry cuts had formed that would inevitably scar. Dean had gone back to his own room shaking and stumbling where his baby brother had to wash the blood from his back and convince him he was alright.

So Dean _knows_ he could never presume how days with Alastair might turn out.

As it _does_ turn out, though, Sammy does get the day off. Or, at the very least, the morning off. Alastair’s gone to visit somebody somewhere, Azazel tagging along beside him like the butt-buddies they are. Tuesday mornings are Sam's Azazel mornings, which means he's home free for the better part of the day. So Sam, of course, spends that time in the library. Dean joins him in hope for the start, but then Ruby retrieves him and sets him up in the bedroom on the top floor. The guest bedroom. And then Dean knows he doesn’t have the same luck as his brother.

The man that meets him up there is a stranger. He’s a lot younger than most alpha’s Alastair sets him up with so he must be a good friend of his. Alastair doesn’t like Dean being with younger alphas. Something about his ego, Dean’s pretty sure. Rotting old bastard he is.

He absolutely reeks of _alpha_ ; cologne, body wash, the works. Overcompensating, Dean thinks.

He introduces himself, which Dean thinks is weird. Dick Roman. Although, the air he does this with is so superior, he must expect it to mean something to Dean. It doesn’t. Dean just nods and lets Dick get on with it.

An hour of, “you’re a big thing, aren’t you, boy? So weak for me though, aren’t you? You need my knot, fucking begging for it, aren’t you?” later and Dean can go back and join Sammy. All the ‘aren’t you''s, would have Sam suggesting some sort of psychological insecurity, so that’s probably the reason he came to Alastair in the first place. And Dean didn’t have a choice but to keep answering, “Yes, yes, yes,” because that’s what Alastair had taught him to do, and he doesn’t need to piss off Alastair, at the very least not right now. He wants this _Dick_ guy to give him a good word, and maybe Dean can get rewarded, maybe he can spend more time with Sam. Maybe Sam won’t be touched for a while.

“Hey Dean, light side or dark side?” Sam asks when Dean walks back into the library. He isn’t limping, which they both see as a good sign, but he still fucking _exudes_ alpha. He won’t bother with a shower until Alastair comes back for the day and requests him, and only then because if Dean smells like another alpha he gets punished. Even though Alastair’s the one that sold him out to said alpha in the first place. But Dean doesn’t want to be punished, especially when they’re on such a good streak. Especially because if Alastair really wants to punish Dean, Sammy will be mixed up in it and he’s been so relaxed and open lately, Dean can’t see that happen. He _won't_ see that happen.

“I hope you’re talking Star Wars, dude,” Dean replies, shuffling down into the giant armchair against the back wall. Alastair never goes near it so Dean, of course, loves it.

“What else would I be talking about?” Sam laughs from his sprawled out state on the carpet, so carefree and young it hurts Dean’s chest.

Dean pretends to think for a minute before answering, “Light side. Stupid question, Sammy, next.”

“Robert Downey Jr or Benedict Cumberbatch?” An old, totally read-out copy of The Hound of the Baskervilles is sat on the rug next to him, closed and studied.

“As Sherlock or just in general?”

Sam lifts his eyes to the ceiling and makes a concentrating face. “General.”

“Downey was Iron Man, so…” Dean stretches out his aching legs. “Yeah, Downey.”

“But Benedict Cumberbatch was Khan.”

 _Subtle, Sam_. Dean quirks an eyebrow at his baby brother and smirks, “Just ‘cause you have a raging crush on him, Sammy boy, it doesn’t mean he’s the best.”

Sam glares back. “I do n-”

The creak of the old wooden door leading from the library into the main hall stops Sam in his tracks and they both turn their heads to look at the intruder. Dean smells nerves slowly excrete into the room from his brother; years in this place and the kid still gets scared when he knows he’s about to go upstairs. It pisses Dean off in some primal, raging anger that he has any repeating reason to _be_ scared. 

Ruby sticks her dumb-bitch head through. “Azazel’s here, Sammy.” Dean growls at the nickname. She ignores him. “Step on it, Sam, you know where to go, he’s up there already. Wash Dean, you stink of Dick.”

She leaves before Dean can slam the door on her precious fucking neck...

Dean looks at a paler, shier version of his brother. Sam scrambles to his feet and makes his way out of the room, pointedly avoiding Dean’s eyes. He must smell Dean’s temper.

So he tries, however uselessly, to lighten it, “Think of a few more questions for when you get back, okay Sammy?”

Sam nods and then he’s gone.

Dean swallows, draws in a huge breath and gets up from the armchair he uses for comfort. He doesn’t deserve it when his little brother is upstairs with that bastard.

Nicholas Azazel is Sam’s most frequent visitor and a good friend of Alastair’s. Every single time Sam comes stumbling down those steps he’d trip into the library or their bedroom and Dean could distinctly smell blood through forced upon slick. He would be bruised and weak and sometimes even Alastair might comment on it. One time, a bitter memory for both Dean and his brother, Alastair took him straight after, right in the middle of the kitchen, just because he said he liked when Sammy smelt scared and bloody.

That terrified Dean. Smelling Sam in fear is one sure fire way to get Dean to do _anything_ , so Dean rarely ever refuses any more. In fact, Dean can’t really remember the last time he did. He could utter a simple “ _but_ ,” and Alastair would threaten Sam or punish him in front of Dean because Dean was being disobedient. Alastair discovered Dean’s weakness too quickly when they arrived here.

Dean showers. If Ruby’s telling him, he should probably do it. And if Azazel's back, Dean would bet Alastair isn't far behind.

The water is a sweet distraction and Dean would stay under it forever if he could.

But he can’t, because he has to be back in the library when Sam gets out. He’ll comfort and stroke his brother, tell him over and over that he’s okay, and  _Azazel won’t hurt him down here_. Even if Azazel does come down to spend time with Alastair in the living room, like they frequently fucking do, he won’t hurt Sam. He might request Sam to sit beside him, suck him off or something while the two alphas talk, but no hitting or too harder stuff comes into play in Alastair's royal presence.

After a particularly bad meeting up in Azazel’s specific 'guest room', when Sam was still crying when the man returned downstairs and slumped on the couch, he laughed like Sam was overreacting and jacked Sammy off. Dean was on the floor beside Alastair, and watching his brother tearfully come from the hands of the monster who had done that to his face had maddened (enraged) him. Alastair had smelt it and Dean was across the room in a heap in seconds.

He beat him, that night, and Sam watched.

***

Castiel gets up, runs for an hour, showers, dresses and eats. A daily routine.

He gets in the car when Gabriel swings back round to their house to pick him up. He reads over the floor plan of the place, he memorizes every detail, every turn or hidden room. He ignores Gabriel’s singing.

When they finally arrive at Alastair’s place it’s late in the day, the sun down and the moon low in the early night sky. They park at least a mile away in meeting with Anna and Balthazar and set off to the house. Anna fills Castiel and Gabriel in on everything else they might not know; there’s two omega’s in their now, seven house staff, a frequent client and Alastair himself. Castiel will go after Alastair on the ground floor, Anna at his back and Gabriel will take out the alpha upstairs with Balthazar. They know exactly where everyone is because Jo, a young beta, is undercover as a maid in the main house. Inconspicuous and perfect for the job, she’s never been anything but efficient and capable. Castiel likes her.

Castiel adjusts the black trench coat around his chest. He’s not exactly nervous, but his heart does beat with the knowledge that one way or another, he gets to put an end to Alastair Gray. Tonight. He’s positive he will not be forgetting this for a very long time to come.

They pass the security measures with efficiency - Anna’s very good at her job - and they’re safely inside the house safely within eight minutes. Gabriel gestures for Castiel and Anna to take their way along the ground floor, and he and Balthazar creep up the side staircase without a single sound. Not for the first time, Castiel wonders how terrifying the four of them look. Clad from top to toe in black, they’re silent and deadly, visibly so with their stealth, and especially if anyone was ignorant enough to try fighting back. Castiel never really minds when they do, though. These commonplace missions do tend to get boring.

Castiel joins Anna when they meet Jo and take out the staff. She uses her preferred gun, fitted with a silencer, but Castiel has never really favoured those. He much prefers his hands.

It's Castiel who takes the lead into the living room.

“You’re brother appears to be doing well.”

The voice weaves through the air in a slimy enough fashion that Castiel would bet anything on who it belongs to. They pause at the doorway and Castiel holds a hand up for them to stay put. Because, oh, this one is _definitely_ his.

“Yes, sir,” says a quieter, sharply controlled voice. One of the omegas.

“Must be getting better at fucking. I should give him another go, don't you think, Dean?”

There’s a bitter stretch silence where Castiel’s stomach has a moment to tighten in anger.

 _Brother_.

Damn it, he didn’t know they are brothers. Castiel doesn't even want to consider what that monster had then do to each other.

“Don’t you think so, Dean? Wouldn’t you like to watch? Maybe I’ll wait until he’s in heat and you can watch him beg for it. Maybe I’ll make him beg for you…”

Castiel flings the door open.

He stands there for a second, lets Alastair click in his brain exactly what’s happening, and lets him react if he can. He’s quick, Castiel will give him that. He’s off the couch and before Castiel in little over five seconds, pasty blue eyes swimming dangerously.

“You moron,” he spits, standing about a metre away and breathing heavily as he glares at Castiel, his eyes never leaving him. “I’ll have you killed in less than ten seconds, you and your little friends. You can’t touch–”

Castiel snaps his neck.

He would have held out longer, he might have fought the man a bit, spilt his blood, savoured his bones breaking in his hands. But then Castiel noticed the man behind Alastair.

Well, not so much man, actually. Late teens, early twenties Castiel would give him. He had stood slowly when Castiel came in, emerald eyes darting unsurely from Alastair to Castiel, and he’s stood in the same place now, hands clenched tight at his sides; he doesn’t look scared and he doesn’t smell it. Those marvelous eyes are apparently steady when they move to Alastair’s crumpled body on the floor and...nothing happens. He doesn’t lose it, he doesn’t react. He just looks back up at Castiel with something special in his eyes and Castiel feels…odd. Out of every house he’s invaded, every omega he’s freed and saved, none of them have behaved like this.

Like nothing. As though he's bored.

And then Castiel smells relief. Gratitude, relief and freedom all in one wonderful stench, all emitting from the boy stood in a forced casual stance mere metres away. He smiles a tiny smile before his chest rises in one of the heaviest breaths Castiel has ever seen. It makes Castiel smile, too.

***

Christ, the house is fucking huge.

Gabriel’s kinda happy he has Balthazar with him, man genius of remembering crap, otherwise he’d have missed the raid entirely and ended up revelling in the home cinema he just spied back down that corridor. But if he did that, little bro ninja would very likely kill him with his deadly little fingers, and what fun would that be? So he follows Balthazar with a put on stony face and stalks through the halls. And then Gabriel doesn’t need Balthazar to navigate because he can hear where he’s needed.

And he can smell scared omega. Scratch that.

 _Terrified_ omega.

“Fucking little slut, huh Sammy? You beggin’ for my knot, you fucking whore, you weak piece of shit…”

The tirade of breathy words and grunts leads Gabriel smoothly ahead of Balthazar and into a neatly painted room with gilded wall-boarders and a seriously decent looking bed with the added extra of horrified omega and a sick-as-fuck, rapey alpha. A family-home type room, you know. Balthazar stays at the door for Gabriel to do his job. Gabriel smirks and waits for the alphas attention because he’s bored and this could be fun. Every tiny grunt and cry from the omega beneath him sends an unusual jolt through Gabriel but he ignores it. He can deal with him later.

As it stands, the alpha is red in the face with effort and the harsh punch of hips to ass. He’s bent crookedly over a scrawnier, trembling frame, hands grabbing at narrow hips hard enough to leave already blossoming bruises and sweating chest draped over a flushed back. The omega’s fucking young, mid-to-late-teens, maybe. His wrists are bound to the headboard on iron rungs and his hands are clinging to the metal with white-knuckle force. Shaggy brown hair hangs over teary, clenched eyes as he jolts forward with every snap of dirty hips.

He’s gagged.

Gabriel finally decides to intervene when it’s clear the alpha asshole is too enraptured in his kill to notice (and totally not because every pained whine slicing the air is sickening him into action). He clears his throat and waits with his arms folded.

The alpha, grey haired and harsh eyed, swings to him, cock still buried in the boy, eyes wild. They narrow when they notice Gabriel, and then Balthazar, stood behind in the doorway, hands slung in his pockets without a care. Ah, trust Balthazar to know how to play properly.

“Aw, don’t stop on my account,” Gabriel says, smirking. He notes idly ( _totally_  not with trained enrapture) that the boy doesn’t look up but shuffles on the mattress, as far away from the alpha as physically possible in the tiny space granted to him. He’s bruised to many places and it angers Gabriel in some primal place he hasn't acknowledged in years before he decides to step it up a notch of only to get this show further along the road.

“What the fu–”

“Oh, I’m here to kill you,” Gabriel supplies, speaking as though he’s giving the days specials at some brunch bar. “Yeah, I know, real fucking messy business. You know man, I’m wearing my nice jacket, and I _really_ don’t want your blood staining it, I'm sure a guy like you understands. So you know, be a doll and toddle on over here so I can snap your neck, nice and clean like.”

The man gapes at him, scowls at the boy – who’s huddled in a shivering ball beside the headboard – and goggles at his own, slightly knotted, dick. Fucking idiot. Gabriel rolls his eyes.

“No fucking way, you can't just - this is _Alastair's_ house, you have no goddamn...you want someone go after him, I'm not…” he tries, bumbling over his words.

“Yeah, Alastair Gray, right? Well, I’d say right about now,” he looks at his watch, “he’ll be bleeding out on that nice Persian rug. Well, if baby bro has anything to do with it. And he totally does. Real stick up his ass about that one, you know. Wouldn’t let it drop no matter _how_ many times no-one paid attention…”

By the time Gabriel stops talking he’s walked up to stand right next to the bed.

“Nice way to rat out a friend, though, jackass.”

And he snaps his hands out, places them on the alphas sweaty, fucking _disgusting_ head and twists. The body falls to the bed behind him the same second Gabriel brushes his hands together and smiles. Good job well done, he thinks. He turns to the boy.

“Hey, there, cutie,” he says, smiling as sweetly as his face will allow.

The boy smells terrified and abused (still pretty fucking awesome, though) but omega slick still permeates the air. The usual heat scent surrounding places like Alastair's doesn't exude from him though, so Gabriel's gonna guess they drugged him up. At least they didn’t go in dry, is all he'll say. Gabriel gently moves the cloth from his mouth.

“Please…” the boy sobs once the gag is removed, flinching away when Gabriel reaches for his bound wrists.

“Hey buddy, you're all good, I'm not gonna hurt you,” Gabriel hushes him gently. He turns to Balthazar. “Check this floor. Tell Cas we’ll be down in a minute.”

Balthazar nods with a wink to the kid and walks out. Gabriel turns back to the boy, who now sits flush against the headboard, wide eyes pinned on the dead alpha who was just inside him. He smells more terrified than he did before. Figures, Gabriel thinks, and before he can think anything more, his hand is out and stroking hazel hair from hazel eyes. The same eyes snap to him with thousands of questions Gabriel has no patience to even consider answering right now, so instead he makes quick work of the fabric – a tie – around his wrists and lets him up off the bed.

“Names Gabriel, by the way,” Gabriel says, when the boys stood beside him on quivering legs (Jesus Christ, he's seriously edging on the 'having to look up to a kid omega' line here). “How ‘bout you, champ?”

Sudden, amusing-yet-surprisingly-threatening death glares are what Gabriel receives, until after a beat, a quiet, unsure voice directing itself at the carpet offers a, “Sam. My name’s Sam.”

“Sam. Perfect. So I’m sure you’re kinda freaking out right about now, huh?”

“Where’s my brother?” Sam asks, purpling eyes narrowed. Gabriel smiles slightly and moves away from the bed to collect the jeans and hoodie from the floor and hand it back to the kid, taking it upon himself to assume the suit jacket and pants aren't his. Sam shimmies into them with sickening practiced efficiency, if not slight clumsiness, and goes back to glaring. It lights something somewhere inside Gabriel that he didn’t even know existed. It’s not an entirely unpleasant feeling.

“That would be omega number two, right?” Gabriel says cheerfully. “Downstairs I ‘spect. Which is where we're going. Come along, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam.” But he follows Gabriel out the room anyway.

They’re silent on their little trek through the mansion. Sam stumbles a bit, still leaking slick and blood through openings in his slight body, but he’s a trooper. Gabriel has an inkling that if he turned to try and help the kid he’d end up like the jackass corpse upstairs anyway, so he doesn't bother. The same, strange thing flares at the thought. For the first time since he was a kid, Gabriel has to remind himself that this hot little omega is, in fact, still a kid. Alpha or not, he’s just seen the little guy get viciously raped and walk it off like it was nothing, and Gabriel might be a murderer but he is not a molester. If he acts on anything right now or anytime soon, he’ll shun Sam out before he can say, ‘So about my raging knot…’

They arrive in the stupidly huge entryway within minutes.

“Sammy,” someone breaths, and the boy beside him is swooped up in a crushing hug. Ah, omega number two. This one is fairly taller but with shorter, lighter hair, almost cropped, piercing green eyes and lips fuller than both Anna and Jo’s put together. The _older_ brother, then. “You okay, little brother?”

“Well, you can tell they’re brothers, huh?” Gabriel mutters, leaving the two near the stairs. He stands beside a stony faced Cas - though it's not like there’s many other faced Cas's. Gabriel nudges his crossed arms with his elbow. “Pretty smooth job, huh Cas?”

“It was very…efficient.” Cas’ voice is taut, stranger and deeper than usual. His azure eyes are on the brother omegas, specifically big bro. Gabriel quirks a brow.

“Yeah…pretty good.” Gabriel smirks at Cas’ sidelong glance. “So what are we doing with the, uh, bro’s over there.”

“We’ll take them to the hospital for a check-up, Gabriel, as we do with all the others.” Yeah, voice definitely tense. He practically growls, “What else would we do?”


	2. Sammy in the Sky with Diamonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yaaaay! Chapter 2 is up and running, bitches!  
> No warnings for this chapter really, just some love...kinda :)

Sam’s pretty sure if he breathes in any deeper he’ll drown in Dean’s angst.

His brother’s hand is gripping a toe over the line of painfully on his arm, Sam crushed against his ribs for purchase. To be fair to him, if Sam weren’t drugged out of his head and still slick from his temporary heat, he’d be swimming in his own horror. As it stands, though, Dean’s apprehension is stinking the car out.

“How you boys holdin’ out back there?” someone says from the front seat. When a grin and single quirked eyebrow on a pale face turn to meet Sam in the eye he blinks up at the alpha, eyes filming through the drug haze. Gabriel has about five left eyes for a few seconds.

“Fine,” Sam tries, but the word leaves his mouth in a blur, slurred and strange tasting. He narrows his eyes and frowns. Did ‘fine’ always feel so weird?

“You sure there, kiddo?” Gabriel asks, his voice tilted at an odd pitch that has Sam slumping gratefully into his brother’s firm shoulder. Not a particularly satisfying pillow, but he figures he’ll deal with it.

“He’ll be okay,” Dean says for him, increasing his vice-like hold. “It’s just when the drugs they use wear off…he, uh, he’ll just have to sleep it off.”

 _Sleep_.

Now there’s a word.

A pretty good word, actually.

“Looks like a bad-ass hit, if you ask me.” Gabriel’s white face disappears in the dark of the car’s interior but Sam can still make out the outline, a glowing oval of… _glow_ with streaks leading to the back of his head. He must have moved pretty fast. Looks like warp speed.

Dean huffs a humourless noise beside him and the car turns silent again. Even Sam can feel the tension.

After a few minutes in silence, Sam notices lights above them, hanging off metal poles, the trees dissipating around them to reveal flat fields, darkened by the late night. Something in the back of his mind fights to supply ‘lamppost’ but by the time he registers it his eyes have moved on. They settle on the two front seats, occupied by two alphas sitting stonily with their attentions forward.

After another moment, Sam decides one thing. _Boring_.

He peeks to Dean instead, his hand moving clumsily to Dean’s t-shirt, the one with the blood stains on the bottom corner and a small tear at the shoulder seem. His brother jumps at the touch but when his eyes turn to Sam’s they’re nothing but tired, relieved and maybe a little overwhelmed but they won’t mention that.

“Heya, Sammy,” he whispers, snuggling Sam’s body in even (impossibly) further. Dean’s warm and he smells about as close to ‘home’ as anything can get for Sam so he’s utterly perfect. Sam serves him a lop-sided smile.

“Hi, Dean,” Sam replies.

“He always like this, then?”

Sam watches the considering, doubtful look Dean awards the alpha before he sighs and raps his fingers over Sam's shirt, answering quickly, “Only after Azazel. That’s pretty much the only time they drug ‘im up so much.”

Sam can hear them talking. Later on, he will probably remember them talking. But right now Dean’s lips look so odd moving around the words, so different and strange to Sam that he can’t help but stare at them. Absently, he hears the shift of leather as probably Gabriel moves on the seat, turning to face one way or the other, but Sam doesn’t care all that much. He just watches Dean.

His brother coughs slightly and the lips move again. “Where, uh, where are we going?”

“We’re taking you to a hospital, Dean,” comes another voice, alpha number two out in the front. Castiel, was it? He’d introduced himself to Sam right about the same time the drugs began to do their thing and in reply Sam had just nodded. Gabriel had introduced him back. Sam didn’t think anything of it, even after his splitting – slightly Dean-like – shit-eating grin. They all got in two cars, the blonde guy and redhead with Jo in the other… _Jo_. Why was she coming?

Sam snaps his attention up the few inches to Dean’s eyes when he smells another wave exude from his brother. Fear. Apprehension. Sam isn’t sure, but either way the men in the front smelt it too.

“You okay, there, bucko?” Gabriel.

“We can’t…um,” Dean begins. Sam wonders why he’s talking so strangely; Dean’s never unsure. Or he wasn’t. Okay, Dean’s always unsure with Alastair. Sam’s head hurts. “You don’t have to do that. I mean, uh…”

“That’s alright, Dean,” Castiel says. “It’s common practice. The facility is fully equipped for omegas, so you’ll both be in safe hands.”

That isn’t what Dean’s worried about, though. They don’t like doctors. Doctors are very, very bad and when Alastair had to call on one for either of them, things never turned out well. Dean should know. Dean should tell Castiel so they won’t have to see one.

But Dean is silent, his lips steeled, breathing harsh and brow lowered. If he’s trying to contain something he isn’t doing a very good job. The whole car can smell him.

Sam decides to step in.

“Doctors are bad.”

That should clear it up, should let the two know that whenever doctors are involved, someone gets hurt. It’s obvious, really. Doesn’t stop narrowed eyes directed at him from Dean’s end and a strange, wide-eyed expression exchange from the front seats. It’s not that hard to grasp, surely?

“Why are doctors bad, Sam?” Castiel asks, his voice unsure.

Sam wants to roll his eyes but he isn’t sure how right now, so he settles for an impatient huff.

“Because they hurt us.” Sam looks to meet Dean’s scowl with confused eyes. “Right, Dean?”

“What do you mean, they hurt you?” Gabriel turns to look at them, his eyes strangely slanted, already unusual on his spritely face. When Sam just stares he prompts, “Sam?”

“They–”

“Nothing.” Dean steps in with his nails digging into Sam’s flesh. Sam scowls at his fingertips but stays silent. “It’s nothing, it’s fine.” He adds, “Really,” when Gabriel doesn’t turn back round.

“You don’t wanna go to a hospital, then?” Gabriel asks.

Sam shakes his head fervently, his bangs flopping into his eyes until he shoves them away with one aggressive hand. He hears Dean gulp beside him. His brother shakes his head with his eyes on Sam’s other hand, the one not still wound in his t-shirt but the one rested on his own knee. Sam seems to be the only one to notice Gabriel’s slightly feral look to his companion in the seat beside him.

“They might be _injured_ , Gabriel,” Castiel mutters, a slight growl to his voice as his knuckles tighten to white on the steering wheel.

“We’re fine,” Dean supplies quickly, recovering almost instantly from his slight flinch at Castiel's harsh voice. “Honestly, we’ve been through worse.”

“Dean…” Castiel begins, seemingly unwilling to continue. When he does it’s after a long, painful breath. “Your brother was just raped. He’s highly inebriated with drugs we aren’t sure of…You’ve both had unprotected sex a number of times, there’s no telling what infections you might have contracted. I really think it’s best if…”

“ _You have no idea where we’ve been_.” Dean’s chest rumbles as he mutters the words, vibrating along Sam’s jawline. He’s upset and, by the smell and set of his body, uncomfortably embarrassed. Sam nuzzles along his upper arm and twists the fingers in his shirt closer to his abs in an attempt at comfort. The smell doesn’t change, though.

“You’re right, Dean, I haven’t the slightest. But believe it or not, we have done this before and we’ve met omegas in similar positions to you and Sam. The doctors at the clinic are well trained with trauma cases and abuse. Please just talk to them. I promise, if you don’t like it we will leave straight away. You have my word.”

Although Dean bristles at the words ‘trauma cases and abuse’, he does seem to decide on something and with a minuscule, furrow-browed glance at Sam he even offers a tiny nod. As for Sam, there isn’t much that could happen right now to faze him, what with Dean by his side and enough toxins in his system to knock out a rhino.

***

The hospital isn’t quite as bad as Dean had feared.

They’re both sat on a gurney in an empty room, Sam nuzzled so far into his side that Dean’s actually worried about some kind of permanent damage. His brother keeps drooping, eyes fluttering shut and every time they do Dean has to prod him slightly or shake his shoulder to keep him awake. The drugs do need to be slept off, it’s the best - and pretty much only - way, but Castiel had said the doctor will need to talk to them after they’ve finished all the tests. Both of them.

Dean fucking hates doctors.

Even before Alastair’s, before that grizzly man with too-hard fingers and scalpels for every tiny thing, Dean had never liked them. Probably some deep rooted, psychological, childhood issue, but Dean just couldn’t stand them. He’s never had any trouble looking after himself, and his baby brother. Or, at the very least, doing the best with what they _have_.

And then there’s Castiel.

And Gabriel, come to think of it.

He’d just watched the man snap another humans neck, not the slightest flinch or expression given, he’d just done it like _that_. And then Sam came flouncing down the stairs behind the other guy, absolutely _reeking_ of that motherfucker but safe and actually walking. Dean would bet his life on Azazel being brown-bread up in that room, and Dean could hug Gabriel for it. Dean had promised to himself years ago that he would kill the both of them, pretty much directly after Sam’s first night with the alpha. But now they’re both dead and a ton a weight has lifted so far from his chest he’s pretty sure he’s reached heaven. It’s fucking refreshing, actually.

“Morning there, boys,” someone says from the door, and when Dean looks over he sees a tall woman, long brunette hair, kind eyes, beta. Looks like she could probably take him in a fight. She smiles at them.

“Hi,” Dean murmurs, stroking Sam’s hair when his brother blinks up at her blearily. He doesn’t say anything, just lets his mop of shaggy hair flop back onto Dean’s shoulder.

“You two look like you need a week’s sleep,” she says, though Dean’s pretty sure it’s mostly to herself. “It’s good to meet you, I’m Dr Pamela Barnes. You can call me Pam or whatever the hell you want.”

Dean wonders if she has a car. He misses his baby; she looks like a muscle car kind of woman, his kind of gal…

Wait, _doctor?_

Dean turns to place narrowed eyes on the woman. This is the doctor? Huh. She doesn’t look like a doctor.

“What?” she says, smiling when she notices his gaze. “Not what you were expecting, huh?”

***

Castiel leaves the brothers in the examination room begrudgingly. He knows Pamela, he likes Pamela. But just the idea of Dean sat in that room with a doctor he’s so clearly terrified of, of him trembling and holding onto his brother for comfort and to reign protection has Castiel quietly fuming in his plastic chair. Something strange, new, odd, unusual, not entirely unwelcome stirs in his chest at the bare idea of Dean anywhere, doing anything, saying _whatever_ he wants that Castiel has never experienced before. He’s saved omegas, he’s sat in this waiting room countless times for them to finish up so he can rally them off to the omega house a few towns away and leave them there. He’s never sat with his leg bouncing with impatience and his eyes darting for dangers, sticking to the closed door and wondering a few times a minute whether if he just charged in and demanded to stay if Pamela would hit him for it. Probably. She’s good like that.

“’Sup, little brother.”

Castiel turns to Gabriel as he waltzes back into the waiting room, two steaming cups of coffee held in each hand. Castiel takes one and looks back at the door barely ten metres away without a word. He nods his thanks, absently.

“So, you still pining over Deany-boy, huh?” Gabriel asks, kicking his ankles into a crossed position when he drops heavily into the chair at Castiel’s side.

Castiel turns an impatient scowl at his brother. “And what are you doing here, Gabriel? The hospital isn’t usually your ‘scene’. I hadn't realized they'd started selling whiskey.”

His brother offers a sarcastic sneer before socking him in the arm.

“Now that would be the day. Maybe I should recommend it to Pamela.”

“Only if you wanted to be slapped.” Castiel slowly returns his eyes to the door, like a magnetic force.

“By Pam?” Gabriel makes a sound of thought before shrugging and once again punching an arm into Castiel’s shoulder with a practically audible grin. “Hey, I’ll try anything once.”

“Mmm,” is all Castiel replies.

They wait in silence for a few more moments, the air disrupted every now and then by an impatient blow from Gabriel’s lips or his fingers tapping the polystyrene cup. Castiel manages to ignore it only because the brothers are just on the other side of that door and they’ll be out soon ( _hopefully_ ). And Castiel can take them to the compound. And he won’t have to see them again. Ever. Huh.

“So, that was a smooth run, huh?” Gabriel says.

“Yes.”

“Ganking Alastair Grey as awesome as you dreamed, Cassy?”

“It was a job, Gabriel, nothing more.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

***

Gabriel’s not the biggest fan of the hospital.

Sure, it does its job and all; very fucking well, actually. But he avoids it like the plague whenever he possibly can and generally, that turns out to be a lot. He invented the ploy of leaving early to get to the facility to help set up years ago to avoid the place; Cas doesn’t buy it but Cas is like a goddamn blood hound. He hadn’t really expected to trick baby-bro anyways.

So why the hell he’s sat in the stupid plastic seat next to said dog-like brother he really does not freaking know…aw _fuck_ , he so does. And it comes in the delicately cut shape of one underage omega…

***

“Yep, that should be good…”

Dean wants to like Pamela, if he’s being honest. But the whole job title _Dr_ Pamela Barnes is the door stopper to it all and every time he remembers it, he reverts back to hating again. He doesn’t care how nice the doctor is, doctors are bastards, end of. And if anyone knows that for bitter certainty, it’s Dean.

“And, sweetie, any idea what they gave you for the slick?”

Sam stiffens up at Dean’s side where they’re perched on the gurney and turns that mop head back into Dean’s shoulder.

“No,” he yawns, the same second Dean says, in an irritated, clipped voice:

“He already told you that.”

“Okay, that’s okay,” she says, nodding and offering Dean a small smirk that’s just on the line friendly and soothing and it pisses Dean off more than a slap would. He fucking _hates_ games. “Should come up in the blood tests at any rate.” She scribbles something down on her clipboard before smiling back up at them again. Dean pulls on the arm around his brother.

To Dean’s total surprise, Sam asks in a sloppy sort of _just-about-to-sleep-after-a-week-awake_ voice,

“Can we _go_ now?”

He chalks it off to the drugs making his reactions totally dumb, but something flares inside of Dean akin to pride mixed in amusement and he smirks to himself. Mouthy little shit he is. Alastair always tries to beat Sam’s mind out of him and letting the kid into a library was the dumbest decision he ever…

Tries.

Okay, _tried_.

Dean guesses he has Castiel to thank for that.

“Not just yet, kiddo,” Pamela says, and Dean feels the blood pump through his hand on Sam’s shoulder as his heart beat quickens to a mile a minute. Yeah, not just yet, and isn’t that how it always goes,

_“Please, stop, fuck…”_

_“Aw, not just yet, baby.”_

“Now, I don’t want any trouble here kids, alright?” She says, her chin tilted up. Dean snarls deep in his throat. Did she lock the door? He doesn’t think so… “We need to check you both over properly, okay? If you just cooperate, we won’t need to involve anyone else, not if you don’t want to. The second you feel uncomfortable with it, we’ll stop and have a break, but this needs to be done one way or another.”

Dean growls. “We feel uncomfortable with it.”

Pamela smiles and winks. “Hey, gimme a chance, kiddo.”

“No.”

“We can do this smoothly with one me or I can drag the two alphas in from outside that door.” She nods in its direction. “Your call, boys.”

“We don’t--”

The doctor stands up in one fluid motion and cracks the door open to poke her head through the gap for a few seconds before returning proudly to her swivel chair in the centre of the room. Dean scowls and decides he doesn’t like her, officially.

In a second the door opens again and Castiel walks in, his black trench coat thing off and left somewhere out in the hospital, it’s absence revealing a dark, skin tight t-shirt and black cargo pants; all very military looking. He smiles tightly when Dean catches his eye.

“Ah, Castiel,” the woman says, flicking through some notes on a clipboard, not even looking up at the alpha.

“Dr Barnes,” Castiel says in way of greeting, even if they did just speak like, an hour ago. He leans against the door way with his arms folded and his eyes on Dean, the door shut behind him.

It’s almost eerie, the way those fucking glowing, azure orbs eyes are trained to Dean’s face.

“I gave fair warning, did I not?” Pamela asks, looking at Dean expectantly, as if he’s actually going to answer with _him_ here. The crease between his brows deepens and he bows his head into his high-as-a-kite brother in protest. Someone chuckles shortly in a gravelly voice and if Dean wasn’t so awkwardly terrified of the guy he’s _pretty_ sure is an assassin, he’d flip him the bird. But he likes his middle finger so he keeps it in.

“I did,” she reiterates to Castiel, who quirks one side of his stupid lips up before ducking his head in what should be an innocent gesture but comes off…just stupid. “So, how d’you boys wanna do this, huh? Two options: the easy way or the hard way.”

Dean just snarls up at her with both his arms wrapped tightly around his brother and makes a point of ignoring Castiel, who now stands like a marble statue by the door, all spy-looking and slightly terrifying.

“Dean…”

“We didn’t ask for your _help_ ,” Dean spits, and suddenly what the man did, him saving them and being nice and killing that _monster_ doesn’t account for this. Dean’s tired and his brother’s about to keel over from exhaustion and a drug induced haze for Christ’s sake. He cannot be dealing with assholes today; if they don’t want him, they should just let them go. Dean thinks they should be excused, it’s been a long-ass day, after all. Fuck them all, he says.

“No, you didn’t. I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel says, and Dean doesn’t want to look at him. He wants to curl up against his brother and sleep for at least a week and at least Alastair let them do that. “But this needs to be done, please, Dean. We need to ensure your safety, both of you.”

“ _Why_?”

“Because it’s what we do.”

***

Sam doesn’t pay much attention when Castiel helps Dean roll him to lay down on the gurney. And if they really don’t want him falling asleep, why are they possibly letting him lay down? Surely that’s just plain torture, expecting him to stay awake when the tissue paper laid across the plastic is just so damn comfortable…

“Come on, Sam, stay with me, kiddo,” a woman says, beta, Pamela. She seems nice. Dean should like her. “Not too much longer, okay?”

An irritated, “Mm,” is all Sam is willing to offer.

If he were any more conscious, the second something travelled down to remove his jeans and pants, or Dean snarling his forbiddance he might have done more than blink blearily. But then Castiel talks and Dean doesn’t smell so bitter and a comfortable hand suspiciously similar in size and weight and colour to Dean’s comes to rest on Sam’s forehead. He snuggles into it. Fingers reach along his hole but Sam doesn’t bother acknowledging them. They’re not hard or painful or insistent, they’re just _there_ so Sam lets the doctor do her job. She’s not a bad one, he thinks.

In a minute or so, Dean whispering memories into his ear in an attempt to keep him conscious and the fingers checking all over his pelvic regions, Pamela snaps some gloves off, Dean pulls Sam’s pants up and Castiel leaves through the door. Probably after something snappy Dean just shot at him that Sam didn’t catch.

Sleep. _Jesus_ , who’d have thought it would be so hard to get some around here?

Sam watches instead when Dean lies next to Sam and Sam can smell the humiliation radiating in tides from his brother when he pulls down his own pants. Sam reaches out a hand and squeezes his.

“Sleep,” he mutters, smiling slightly. Dean’ll understand. _Think of sleep. Don’t think of the fingers, Dean, think of sleep._

“Yeah, Sammy,” he says, because Dean’s the best. “Sleep.”

It takes Pamela a similar amount of time to finish Dean and after about five hours they are both helped up (or Dean’s helped to help Sam up) and escorted from the room. Castiel and Gabriel stand like soldiers on parade, which is fitting, because they both look like soldiers in black or special ops or spies or ninjas or…

“Woah, woah, hey,” Gabriel says, and he’s suddenly _right there_ with his hands on Sam’s arm. Oh, Sam’s legs gave out. Right.

“I got it,” Dean says.

“You can’t carry him to the car, kid,” Gabriel says.

“Yes, I can,” Dean says.

“Lemme give you a hand, okay?” Gabriel says.

“Dean,” Sam whines before his brother can protest more. The car means driving and driving means the next destination and the next destination might mean sleep. Fuck, Dean, shut up, let’s run to the car.

His brother huffs. “Fucking... _fine_.”

And in another surprise, Sam’s completely lifted from the ground and hauled upwards into the air for a few seconds, only to land snuggly against Gabriel’s firm chest. Only it’s not _too_ hard and Sam can get behind sleeping on it, no problem. He wraps his arms around the alpha’s shoulders and his legs move to join behind at the small of his back. He realises he’s not wearing shoes and it makes him smile.

Dean splutters in protest but Sam reaches out a sloppy hand to drag over his face and he shuts up. Sam can’t be hard on him at all; he’s pretty sure himself when he’s a little more coherent this whole situation is going to be utterly mortifying. Castiel walks beside Dean and after a few more minutes of bright, artificial lights, they appear in the early morning dawn. Car, car, car…

“I’ll drive, Cas,” Gabriel says, and Sam can feel the words rumble on his chest.

“Why?”

“Give you a break, why else?” Gabriel slides Sam into the back with Dean and he jumps in the driver’s seat.

They drive for a while, Sam’s head on Dean’s lap when he lies down along the backseat. He wonders if the doctors gave him more drugs. Would explain the pills, lack of pain, light-headedness…

“Gabriel…” Castiel’s voice is a warning. “What are you doing?”

“What? The kids are pooped, and our house is closer than the facility. Thought they’d prefer it, is all.”

“For God’s sake…”


	3. Home and Away

Dean watches the two alphas with narrowed eyes.

His brain’s de-fogging, he’s seeing the situation for what it really is and he's seriously beginning to not like it. So far, they’ve been re-kidnapped, taken to a hospital against their own will and now they’re hauling ass over to the guys’ house in their stupid plastic shit-mobile. If they think for one goddamn second either one of them is laying another finger on Sammy, _especially_ in his current state, they’ve got another fucking thing coming. Dean’s tired, he’s pissed, he’s confused, and he just wants out. He wants to grab Sam, leap out the car and hide in the ditch they’re driving beside. He wants to raise Sam the way he deserves to be raised and not a word less or a rape more. It’s the freaking least the little genius deserves.

Sam shuffles on his lap, eyelids drifting heavily to brush those dark lashes over his blushed cheek, and Dean pushes thin tendrils of hair off a damp forehead. Even as drugged as the kid is, Dean hasn’t seen him so peaceful looking in a long-ass time. And he’s not even asleep, though not from lack of trying. He’s like one of those painted people-statue things that Dean freaking hates, breathing so softly it’s almost impossible to notice, his fingers compulsively flexing over Dean’s jeans to keep himself conscious. If they lay one measly little murderous hand on this kid, they will _seriously_ not know what’s hit them.

“Do you _really_ think this is a good idea, Gabriel?” Castiel hisses from the front seat, though it’s not really a question, more a declaration of Gabriel’s stupidity. Dean agrees. Nothing says _just-like-every-other-bastard-alpha-out-there_ quite like dragging two abused omegas to your home without their say so. Dean’s starting to think this ‘ _facility_ ’ thing was a load of old bullshit anyway. Maybe they just visited with Alastair once, liked the look of Dean and Sam, came back to kill Alastair and take their fancy, checked the omegas over so they don’t catch anything nasty, and now their being trolleyed off to become some kinky fantasy in the middle of BFN, wherever.

Well, fuck them. This time, Dean will _not_ be giving in so easily.

“Oh, what?” Gabriel snaps, turning to face the other alpha. “It’s closer, Castiel. And think of it this way, they won’t be spending the rest of the night on some cruddy, little excuse for a bed, _separate_. They can stay together if they want, sleep on an actual bed, with sheets and _everything_ , and eat a real meal. But, hey, you want them to go join the system first chance we get, let their lives be on your hands. ‘Cause you know as well as I do, they’ll be split up. They don’t like omegas sleeping together, and they won’t tolerate them demanding to stay together. So, you want them unhappy the rest of their lives, you go ahead.”

“I’m not leaving Sam,” Dean growls, and even he can hear the tremor in his own voice, smell his sudden, cut-throat fear. _Separated_ was just about the only word he caught from that and now it’s swimming his head, highlighted and fucking glowing like Hollywood lights, and maybe their house doesn’t sound like such a bad idea. And, if they need a quick fuck or whatever, Dean can still supply. They aren’t going near Sammy, but if that’s what it takes too stay together, Dean’ll do what he has to. Doesn’t mean he’ll like it, but whatever. He hasn’t liked his life so far, did he really think he would suddenly begin to now?

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam mewls, fingers like little kitten claws, pawing at Dean’s thigh. Dean keeps up his rhythmic stroking, distracting Sam as he tries to reign in his stench. There’s no point being scared; what happens, happens and Dean will just have to deal with it when it does. But he is _not_ leaving his brother _anywhere_.

Castiel sighs. “We’re not asking you to. And, Dean, I understand what it might look like, us taking you both to our home. But, I need you to know, we won’t go near either you or your brother without your explicit consent, okay?” Dean balks at the choice of _explicit_. How is that _not_ gonna sound weird? “It’s common practice to take you to the facility, but it is probably true that you will be separated and placed in different rehabilitation sites. Obviously, you do not want that to happen, so...God, you may stay with us for as long as you need.”

Dean’s not particularly sure what to say to that. _Obviously_ , he doesn’t want Sam to be taken away from him, but that doesn’t even mean this Castiel guy’s even telling the truth. They could have concocted this whole facility theory in their warped little minds, and convincing them to come willingly is a total trick. That doesn’t exactly explain why they’re trying to convince them so much, but Dean doesn’t trust them. And, honestly, he can’t imagine he ever will.

They drive on in tense silence for a few more minutes, and when they pull into a long drive and park beside a house slightly smaller than Alastair's and holding a slightly more modern edge, Dean’s heart begins to pulse like a mother-fucker. But he forces everything he has into not reeking of fear or whatever the hell else is gonna embarrass him tomorrow.

If he lives that long.

Gabriel hops out, moves around, and opens the door on Sam’s side first. The kid just shivers slightly from the brisk night air, clumps himself into a ball along Dean’s side and doesn’t make any move to get out. Gabriel meets Dean’s eyes with a quirked, amused eyebrow, and Dean rolls his eyes.

“Sammy, come on, kiddo,” he tries, nudging at the dead weight of his brother towards the door. “I’m not staying in here all night, Sam, get a move on.” Dean’s not sure if maybe he would, but then Sam mewls like a little lost puppy and hauls himself up and over towards Gabriel.

And then Dean’s too late in scrambling out of the car, because Sam is in the air in seconds, looking ridiculous carried like a princess in Gabriel’s alpha strengthened arms. Dean scowls, but doesn’t say anything, especially not when his brother snuffles into the dude’s _assassin_ jacket and actually fucking _scents_ the guy. Oh, he’s _so_ not living that down when his brain comes back to him.

“After you, Dean-o,” Gabriel says, nodding in the direction of the front door. Front _gate_ more like. And Dean only goes, one eye still firmly on Gabriel and his sloth-adjacent brother, because Castiel is holding it open for him.

***

Castiel leads Dean into the house, Gabriel trailing after, holding up Sam. Castiel is pretty sure he’s either doing it to annoy the hell out of Dean (which wouldn’t be particularly surprising, considering the ass he can generally manifest into), or he’s developed a soft spot for the young boy, which is one hundred percent less likely, but is probably what is happening. Usually, Gabriel takes the other car, leaves the omegas with Castiel and maybe Anna, and departs with some snarky remark or another. And he never sticks around at the hospital. Until Sam came along.

“Would you like anything to eat?” Castiel turns and meets Dean, pausing in their kitchen, Dean halts as though startled and looks toward him with wide eyes. 

Dean blinks a few times, then looks over at the incoherent brother nestled in Castiel’s own brother’s arms, and the smug little look on his face annoys even Castiel, so what it must be doing to Dean is another thing entirely. Castiel shakes his head. Idiot.

“Or maybe you’d prefer going to bed?” Castiel offers, and at the sharp sting of fear from Dean, he quickly adds, “To sleep. We have a spare room you and Sam can share, if that’s what you want? Or we could make up the other guest bed, if you’d rather sleep separately-”

“That’s fine,” Dean says, before Castiel can even finish. He’s not even sure why he wasted his breath offering another room, Dean can barely take his eyes from his brother, let alone allow him to sleep in a separate space.

Castiel offers a tight smile and a nod.

“The kid needs some meat on his bones, that’s for sure, but I wouldn’t mind putting him down right about now,” Gabriel says, shifting the weight of Sam in his arms with a laboured huff.

Castiel nods again. “Yes. Dean, Gabriel will show you to your room. Good night, to both of you. Whenever you decide to rise, there will be food prepared, but take your time. Rest well, boys.”

He watches when Dean nods with a sombre face and trails behind Gabriel out of the kitchen, through the living room and out of sight up the stairs. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been carrying as he watches the ghost of the two omegas leave his sight, over and over again in his mind. It’s never been like this before. They’ve never taken an omega home, let alone two, and they never _ever_ told anyone they could stay for an indefinite amount of time. Castiel and Gabriel enjoy their space. It’s why they have a big house and three sections; Gabriel’s side, Castiel’s side and the guest/communal area where they entertain or integrate with one another. And both are so rare, Castiel’s pretty sure he should get Ellen to clean it and dust it like never before. There’s probably bats hiding out in the living room.

Castiel should call Anna, let them know the two omegas won’t be headed to the facility, not tonight, and probably not for a while, at least until they become settled in normal life again.

She picks up on the third ring.

“Castiel? Where are you, we were expecting you an hour-”

“We won’t be at the compound tonight.”

“ _What_?” she asks, clearly tired and impatient, he waits for her to finish a yawn.

“The omegas, Sam and Dean, will be residing with us for the night,” he explains calmly, roaming over to flick on the coffee machine. It hisses at him before popping into life.

“What do you mean, they’re _staying_ with you? Why?”

“Because…” Castiel isn’t particularly sure how to word it without sounding completely off-hinged, so, like an idiot, he says, “We have...grown fond of them.”

He can practically hear the Gabriel-grin form on her face. The smile is apparent when she says, “You dog, you! Gabriel, too? Really? I mean, you get one of them is, like, sixteen, right?”

“Sam, yes,” Castiel says, rolling his eyes. “Gabriel has-”

“Ha! Oh, I’m _so_ not surprised. So you got the big one, huh?” All hint of exhaustion has now disappeared.

“I don’t…”

“Yeah, yeah. But listen, the only way they can legally kick back with you two is if I sign them over. You know, ‘till they both get cleared for reintegration and the little one turns eighteen.”

“But…” But Castiel doesn’t know, _but_. He’s never paid attention to those rules, he was the attack dog, he killed, rallied the omegas to the facility and left them there, job well done. He’s never really considered what would really happen to them afterwards, guardian wise. He supposed they were adopted or something, but he’s never been involved, and he doesn’t know what to do now. “Can’t you sign them over to us for a week or something?”

“Sorry, bro, doesn’t work like that. You want ‘em, you have ‘em. Until they’re legal to leave.”

Dammit.

Castiel sighs and runs a hand through his already ruffled hair. “I suppose…”

“Great! I’ll write the papers up and have them to you by Monday. See you around, Cas!”

The line goes dead. _Crap_.

“So, Cassy, how much shit am I in?”

Gabriel would choose now to come flouncing back, jacket now discarded somewhere in the house, regular snarky grin plastered on his face. For someone expecting to be shouted at, he seems far too happy about it. He nods to the phone at the same second he lands in one of the kitchen-islands chair.

“Who was that?”

“Anna,” Castiel answers, turning away to the coffee machine and pouring them both a cup. “I was informing her of the situation.”

“Ahh,” Gabriel hums, nodding when Castiel hands him his sugary concoction. Honestly, how anyone can eat anything with four spoonful’s of sugar is beyond Castiel. He prompts, “And?”

Damn. Castiel had hoped his brother would drop it, and maybe Castiel could inform him the next time he got blindly drunk, that way Castiel could pretend he’d known all along, he’d just forgotten. Trust the idiot to register now.

Castiel leans on the counter, across from him.

“And…we _may_ now be the official guardians of two omegas.” He squints his eyes in expectation of the retort. Instead, a giddy howl fills the room, so high-pitched Castiel has to cover his ears and scowl at the goddamned _baboon_ before him.

“Wow, I knew you had a think for Dean-o, but really? Jeese, Cas, you kinky son of a bitch…”

“I didn’t intend for this to happen! Anna said the only way we could hold them for a few nights was to hold them for at least another year…Crap. What are we going to do with two omegas? What about when they go into heat? What-”

“Woah, hold your horses there, compadre. Dude, you worry too much, anyone ever tell you that?” He shakes his head in good nature at Castiel’s sulking expression. “Look, this is a good thing. This way, we can keep an eye on them, keep ‘em safe and supported, _together_. It’s better, actually. Hey, you know what, you quit worrying about the details and leave them to me.”

Castiel scoffs.

“Oh, yes, of _course_ …”

“Hey, I mean it. You worry too much, man, I got this one. I’m not _completely_ useless, you know, I am capable of serious things, you just don’t allow me to be.”

Right. Because Castiel is just going to palm off the lives of two abused humans just because _he_ supposedly worries too much. Well, Castiel worrying too much has gotten them out of more life or death situations than either can count, so Gabriel can just—

“What?”

Gabriel smirks again.

“Oh, nothing. Just, uh, you really like these two, huh?”

Of course Castiel does.

“So do you,” he accuses, glaring childishly.

“Well, duh. So, you get Dean, I get Sammy, right?”

“Maybe they would be more comfortable under the aid of one…”

“No can do, kiddo." Castiel eyes him. "What? Hey, I spend more time at that freaking facility than you do, 'scuse me if I know more rules. Anyways, first time guardians aren't allowed to be at the aid of more than one omega at a time, dems the rules, buddy. Dibs Sam, by the way. Besides, we live together, what difference does it make? And either way, whatever happens, we can babysit, right?” Gabriel downs the bottom of his mug and yawns like a foghorn. “Well, I’m beat.”

“Go to bed. We can all discuss this better in the morning, anyway.” Gabriel quirks an eyebrow and Castiel sighs. “ _Or_ whenever we arise. Did you show them the bathroom?”

“It’s in their room, Cas, I don’t think they can miss it.”

“Okay. Did you give them anymore clothes?”

“Yup. Few tee’s and such until we can grab ‘em some more.”

“Okay, good. Well, goodnight, then,” Castiel says, spinning the still-full coffee cup in his hands.

“Night, baby-bro.”

***

Gabriel gave them two t-shirts, three pairs of boxer shorts and a pair of jogging-pants, each.

He’s in the shower now, Sam’s scent still bathing with him, all over his hands and along his neck, straight from the kid’s perfect little nose. He’d _scented_ Gabriel, and, dammit, if that wasn’t enough for Gabriel to pop a serious knot, then he doesn’t know what would be. God, he’s like a fresh cheesecake, still stinking up the kitchen with his sweet and perfect flavour, floating in the air so dense, Gabriel can almost _taste_ it.

And, hey, he’s not knocking one out to the _kid_ , per say, and it’s so not his fault Sam smells like freshly boiled sweets, is it? It’s purely genetics and _not_ Gabriel’s fault _at all_ , so why should he deny himself?

Honestly, it’s not like he has much of a choice, the way his now seriously interested dick is lighting up like Christmas, knot already firmly in place. _Ah, crap_. He’s going all teen-alpha again, isn’t he? He should have grown out of that fucking years ago, but _no_. And there’s only one way to solve it…

Gabriel returns to his bedroom completely satiated, if not a little damp. His own knot is hidden beneath the knot of the towel, but he flings it off and all but leaps, butt naked, onto the sheets of his bed. He claps the light off, crawls under the sheets, and closes his eyes on the angelic features of _his_ omega. Today has been fucking _awesome_.

 

When Gabriel wakes up again, it’s to the phone.

It’s light outside, he can feel it bask the lower half of the bed, but by the time on the nightstand, nowhere fucking _near_ waking time. He snatches the phone up, swearing all the way, and croaks a,

“What?”

“Good to hear from you too, Gabe.”

Pamela. What the fucking hell?

“Pam? I swear to _God_ , this better be important, sweetheart, I was in the middle of a _very_  interesting dream.”

“’S I in it?” she says, humor in her voice not suitable for this time with so little sleep. He just growls and she chuckles, but continues. “Listen, I got some results back from the boys’ tests.”

Gabriel pauses the hand over his face. He asks, voice diffident, “Oh, yeah? And this couldn’t wait ‘till morning, because…?”

“I don’t think you’re gonna like it. I tried phoning Cas, but his phone’s off.”

“Smart man.”

“Gabriel…”

“Spit it out, dude, I don’t got all day.”

“It’s Sam. He’s, uh, he’s pregnant.”

_Oh, fuck._


	4. Papa Don't Preach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for underage pregnancy and implied forced incest.  
> Phew, that was a bitch.  
> Enjoy :)

When Sam wakes up, it’s to Dean’s relentless snoring. And Sam, as is their pattern, nudges an arm out to the offending noise, flicks a few fingers at his brothers face until one final snort sounds and Dean blinks open, dazed and confused. Sam laughs and scuffles closer.

“Morning, princess,” he greets, slapping a hand to Dean’s cheek a few times and revelling in the disoriented frown.

A grumble sounds; a noise suspiciously close to _fuck off_ , but it’s pretty much impossible to tell under all the groaning, so Sam just waits patiently for the coin to drop. It takes less time than he originally imagined.

Dean jerks upright, blinking his eyes clear and swinging them round the room; over the chest of drawers opposite them, to the bathroom door over the way and finally gawping silently at the band t-shirts they both don. Dean’s proudly proclaims _PARAMORE_ with a bulb beneath it apparently on fire (Sam is pretty sure he will never not find that funny) – and his displays the face of every band member with a small and relatively discreet _The Beatles_ just underneath their colourful faces. Sam approves of both, actually, though he hasn’t really listened to much of either-

“We have to get out of here.”

It’s Sam’s turn to blink up.

“What? Why?” he asks, his dazed and comfortable smirk replaced quickly with a confused frown at Dean’s steadfast face.

Dean just turns his incredulous expression at him, the one that always says, _‘okay, I know you’re a smart kid, but really? Are you that dumb?’_ and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Why the hell d’you think, Sam?” he asks, already moving out of the bed. “There is no way we’re staying here, I’m not ditching one whore house to wind up at another.”

Sam clambers after him but pauses at the end of the soft comforter, kneeling so their eyes can meet where Dean stands. Sam can smell the fear, but he doesn’t mention it.

“Okay, one? We didn’t _ditch_ Alastair’s, they killed him and saved us. And two, why would they go through all the trouble in making sure we’re okay just to screw us up again? That doesn’t make any sense…”

Dean grabs his shoulders, halting his speech, and peers into his eyes.

“Sam,” he sighs harshly. “Look, I know you wanna trust someone again, and I get that, I do - and sure, it’d be great to have people around we didn’t have to be terrified of. But these _alphas_ are not them.” He spits the word and shakes his head. “We can’t trust them. End of.”

“But Gabriel-”

“You know you don’t actually mean whatever you’re about to say, right? Your brain’s all messed up, dude, you freaking _scented_ the guy. See, they’re already getting into your head.” He jabs one pointy finger at Sam’s temple right until he has to bat it off. Sam glares, offended.

“Yeah, last night, excuse me if I wasn’t _thinking_ clearly, asshole.” Dean deflates slightly. “But my brain’s fine now, thank you, and all I was going to say was that Gabriel _and_ Castiel would have probably done something by now, if that’s what they were planning to do.”

“Like shit. No way, they want to lull us into a full sense of security, and then when we least expect it, they’ll lock us in some dungeon and keep us as sex slaves.”

It takes pretty much everything in Sam’s power not to slap his brother right across the face, but he manages it and simply gives an exaggerated sigh. Dean scowls.

“Well, we’ve already tried that one. And what have we got to lose, seriously, what, our virginity? Well, sorry bro, that ship sailed a while back.” Dean looks like he’s about to snap again so Sam slaps a quick hand over his mouth. “Why can’t we just give them a go? Please? If anything weird happens, anything at all, we’ll run, I swear. I promise. Dean? Come on, please?” He drops the hand to his brother’s tense shoulder.

“You’re a freaking-”

“What if we do run? We’re we gonna be then, Dean, two unmated omegas, one underage, roaming the streets like nothing’s wrong. We’re in more danger out there than in here, you know that. And if we do run and these guys turn out to be the best thing we could ever imagine and _we_ missed it. All because you’re an idiot.”

Dean hasn’t moved the scowl, but it does appear to lighten at Sam’s speech and when he sighs with his eyes rolling to the ceiling, Sam knows he’s won. He just hopes he’s not wrong.

“Fucking _fine_.” Sam grins. “Trial run. One thing we don’t like and we’re out of here, understood?” Sam nods eagerly and Dean rolls his eyes for the thousandth time and shakes his head in exasperation. “But I’m blaming this on you if they decide to murder _us_ in the night.”

Sam chuckles slightly and tilts his head until both their foreheads collide with a comforting thud. “Yeah, I’ll blame me too.”

They stay there for a few seconds, breathing in the other's scent and stabling themselves that home is right here, wherever the hell they are, the stillness around them a relaxing change and Sam just breaths it all in for a second…all up until Dean has to ruin it. He moves off and eyes Sam suspiciously, a glint of _‘I’m about to rip you a new one’_ twinkling in his oak-green eyes.

“So…how you feeling right now?” he asks, growing one mammoth sized shit-eating grin, to which Sam narrows his own eyes.

“I’m fine,” he tries, eyeing his brother.

“Oh, really? Not, uh, _itching_ for your little boyfriend out there, huh? ‘Cause I know how much you like _scenting_ him…”

Dick. “I hate you, you know that? Like, I actually _really_ kinda hate you a little bit… _Ow!_ ” And then Sam’s tumbling to the sheets beneath the weight of one stupidly heavy omega, pinned beneath his stupid hands and stupid legs, digging his goddamn claws in until Sam’s left a heap of child-like bones. He tries to struggle out of it, he really does, but ever since the first time Dean leapt on him as toddlers, Sam’s been totally useless under the power. He hopes by some awesome brotherly karma that by the time he stops growing he’s at least inches above this jerk. “You’re an idiot!” he cries, laughing hysterically when Dean’s lethal fingers go in for his hips, jerking away. “Dean, get off, you freak, _dude!_ ”

They stop instantly in perfect unison when they both hear the knock at the door. Dean climbs off of him with a face like he’s just been caught stealing the last cookie and Sam sits up, eyes flickering from the offending door to his suddenly shy big brother.

Then it opens and Castiel’s stood there, stance tentative. He looks nice, Sam thinks, good in the jeans and blue button down, better in the casual look than the assassin one. He smiles and Sam offers one of his own, however small. It’s still a smile, right?

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he says. He takes one step in, just one, but Dean’s already moving himself, a sort of shuffle back but to the side as well, until he slides off the bed completely and stands facing the alpha. Sam just stays where he is, testing the waters of his own theory and hoping more than anything he isn’t wrong with this. Castiel seems to notice the small exchange and pauses, standing right back where he was and smiling reassuringly. Sam sighs inwardly. It’s gonna take more than that to get Dean on his side. “I heard noise, I thought maybe I should check in on you both, just in case something was wrong.”

“We’re fine,” Dean snaps, shoving his chest out in a chauvinistic move suspiciously alpha-like, and for the first time in what feels like years, Sam thinks just how good of one he’d be.

“Yes, I can see,” Castiel says, nodding slightly with the smile. He motions to the corridor. “Well, if we’re all up, we might as well get breakfast? I’m sure you’re both hungry.”

Sam’s up and off the bed then before his brain and feet can even catch up, because his stomach is definitely taking this one. He pauses half way over to Cas to look back at Dean, eyes wide and pleading because _seriously the hunger is intense they haven’t eaten in like a whole day come on dude don’t be an idiot_ and Dean rolls his eyes up again, like Sam just keeps ruining his big plans, such as running and staying food-abstinent. Yeah, well, they can stay abstinent for something else because Sam is eating and they can’t eat if they’re running, so _suck it up Dean_.

“You seem in better health today, Sam,” Castiel says, just about the moment they all enter the kitchen, and Sam can feel his face heat up with late embarrassment. He’d snuggled into Gabriel. They pulled down his pants and he just laid there and let them _fondle_ him… _Oh god_.

“Yeah,” he says slowly, looking up to Dean for some kind of support, but the jerk just looks down at him, a giant smirk running his features. Sam grimaces. “Uh, sorry about that, I guess.”

“God, no, it wasn’t your fault, don’t apologise. Anyway, it’s not like you did anything wrong at all, I’m just glad to see you’re in better health, that’s all.” He smiles and it’s kind and Sam doesn’t know what to do so he just gulps and looks away. And if he shrinks slightly behind Dean, then it’s because Dean’s made him shy and he’s bigger…or whatever.

And Sam won’t admit it, but Gabriel (victim of said shuffling and scenting) not being here is one of the biggest reliefs he’s ever felt in his entire life. He doesn’t even want to _think_ about the awkward surfacing from that conversation.

“Please, sit,” Castiel offers, motioning to the high-table and stools. Dean sits first and Sam follows slowly, peering around and so not obviously breathing in the scent of Gabriel surrounding his seat. He must have sat here recently. It’s strong and – in the most ignorant way – comforting, but Sam ignores that and moves as close to Dean as the chair will let him to breath in _omegafamilyhome_ in one perfect scent. “Is eggs okay?”

Dean nods and Sam shrugs, and they both watch Castiel bustle the kitchen so intently, Sam’s worried about eye damage or something; but after a few minutes of watching the blue shirt zip around in his vision, once Sam blacks out for a second, he gives in. Besides, if he was planning to drug their food without their knowledge, Sam’s pretty sure he’d find a way.

Six cracked eggs in, Castiel turns to them and asks, “Is it alright if I turn on the radio?” and Sam looks at Dean so sharply, it nearly cracks his neck. Olive eyes stare back and they watch as the other tries not to grin. Cas, however, seems to catch the wrong end of the stick and he shifts in their peripheral vision and says, “It’s fine if you’d rather not, I don’t mind.”

Sam answers first, a quick, “No, it’s fine, please,” with wide eyes just in case he decided not to in that short space. Then Castiel smiles and flicks it on, tuning it with his eggy fingers, until, of all songs, _Sweet Child O’ Mine_ comes crooning in with the instrumental Dean _always_ has to air-guitar rock out to, and Sam can feel his relaxing at his side, aura lifting slightly from _I-hate-everything_.

“Classic rock good?” and they both nod furiously.

The nine eggs don’t take long, but with each one that went in, Sam’s gut dropped with the idea that Gabriel might be joining them. He felt his own scent shift slightly, watched Dean out of the corner of his eye as his brother sniffed the air and turned a quizzical look to Sam, which he ignored, silently willing the stench to back the fuck off.

When the plate of eggs and sliced up toast is placed before him, though, Sam forgets his trepidation. The brothers share a look, one that says, _no freaking way_ , and they both pick up the forks with the same hand, both prod shyly at one piece before taking it to their mouths and tasting it quickly. And they both grin giddily at each other before diving in and forgetting they were worried about drugs in the first place. Oh well, if it’s drugged it’s drugged, no use wasting a good plate of food.

They never ate like this with Alastair. Every now and then Jo might sneak them something nice, but generally Ruby would be sniffing around like the dog she was and they’d have it snatched away before the first bite. The only time they had real meals (or anything similar) was when Alastair had guests and they were allowed to finish off any left overs in the kitchen for being good. Otherwise, random snacks or tubes would generally do.

And they’ve finished their food - literally scraped their plates clean, all three of them - by the time Gabriel makes his star appearance. Sam shrinks as far down into his seat as physically possible and tries to stay there, clutching his glass of orange juice and avoiding anyone’s gaze. The others apparently notice at a slower rate, Castiel turning in greeting and then Dean, sniffing up and frowning before turning his eyes to Sam – and then down to where Sam’s slumped, as realisation dawns. He smirks because he’s an idiot and if this was his position, he’d be trying to bury too.

“Mornin’,” he greets once he’s cornered the table, grinning the grin of a Cheshire cat that somehow doesn’t reach his eyes, the golden orbs Sam remembers floating around in his skull. Sam doesn’t know if the alpha even looks at him once, his eyes go so intently focused on his clear glass and numbering all the bits of orange stuck to the sides because it's suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “Say, Cas, can I have a word with you please? Like now.”

Castiel lifts an eyebrow at him, observing the bed-head mess of his hair and the seemingly thrown on jeans and tee ( _If I agreed with you we’d both be wrong_ written on the front) and the arch of his eyebrows before nodding slightly and moving off with him. Sam and Dean both watch them disappear round the wall of the kitchen before turning back to each other.

“What do you suppose that’s about?” Sam asks, craning his head slightly to get a better view, though the most he’s allowed is Gabriel with one hand on his hip and the other on his hair, just before he feels like he’s gonna fall and look like a moron so he straightens up and looks curiously back to Dean.

“Dunno, don’t care,” he says, sighing and leaning back against the chair in a feline-like stretch. He peeks down at Sam with one eye. “Dude, if it’s important, I’m sure we’ll find out sooner or later.”

“Right,” Sam agrees. He doesn’t know if he imagines it, but he thinks he can smell a waft of something sharp enter the kitchen, maybe surprise or something, though not quite fear. And it’s not Dean. Sam sighs to himself and shakes his head. He’ll worry about anything if his brain lets him, seriously, just let it go, everything’s fine.

But then that ‘imaginary’ scent drifts near again, accompanied by Castiel calling tightly, “Dean, will you come here for a second?” and Sam feels his heart meet his throat.

Dean looks startled for a brief moment, blinking down at Sam before apparently shaking out of it and sliding down from the stool. He slinks away, “Wait here, Sammy,” and Sam doesn’t say ‘tell me what happens’ because he knows Dean will, they don’t keep secrets for anything. But when Dean leaves his sight around that wall, Sam knows something bad has happened, he just doesn’t know what. Is Dean ill or something? Did his test results come back weird or has something come up concerning Dad, maybe they found out where he is-

“What? How the hell do you know?” Dean’s voice is rough and raw, tempered and angry and Sam’s heart picks up to a speed he hates and he tries to remember his breathing, in-out-in-out, slow and steady, like Dean always says. His outburst is followed by shushes and comforting sounds, bordered swiftly with Dean’s scent and finally that other mystery one makes sense. Shock, because now that’s what Dean’s feeling, horror and pure fear and Sam’s eyes are wide again and he can smell them mixing now, his own fear and Dean’s, like some horrible perfume filling up Sam’s head.

Sam can’t hear any more talking after that, but after a minute or so Dean returns back round the corner. His face is sheet-white, Sam remembers the last time it was _that_ pallid, Alastair had made them fuck and whatever the hell is _that_ bad, Sam doesn’t know. He isn’t sure he wants to find out.

“Dean?” he says, shifting on the chair but not leaving it because Dean had told him to “wait here”, but then Dean lifts his lips into a grimace that’s probably meant to resemble a smile and motions for Sam to go to him. And Sam goes as quickly as his feet will carry him. “Dean, what’s going on, what’s wrong? Dean, please, what the hell?” They stand together, Sam’s hands gripping tightly at Dean, staring wildly at each other until Dean peeks a glance back and Sam notices the alphas in the doorway. Gabriel’s looking at Sam’s feet and Castiel catches his eye with a reassuring smile. “ _Dean?_ ”

“Shit,” Dean says, dipping his eyes again. When he looks back up, the intentness is physical and Sam feels his insides drop like he’s just fallen on the big dipper. “Sam…I need you to try and remember to not freak out, alright? Please?”

“Just tell me, for God’s sake…”

“Okay, okay,” he sighs heavily. “And I’m here for you. No matter what the hell happens, I swear to God, I’m never leaving you for anything, okay?”

Sam nods.

Dean takes a giant breath in and, with raised eyebrows, says, “You’re pregnant.”

****

The second Sam dips to the floor, Gabriel’s on him. There’s not much he can do but stand there awkwardly with his hands out, because the boy sits down smoothly, crunched into himself on the floor with his legs pinned beneath him and his brother swiftly with him, whispering things into his ear that makes the blank look on his face regain some sort of emotion and he blinks. But then he can’t catch his breath and his eyes turn wildly to Dean’s face with something akin to pure and physical horror, and Castiel moves to Gabriel’s side.

“Sam-” he tries, moving a step too close to the pair until Dean swings a look up at him from the tiles, a threatening snarl purely from animalistic instinct pushed out before snapping back to his hyperventilating brother.

“Sammy,” Dean starts, gripping Sam’s shaggy hair between his hands and holding his eyes until they have no choice but to focus in on him, intent and strong. “Breath, Sam, come on little brother, you’re okay, Sammy, everything’s okay, I promise you, alright, I swear to you we’ll make it through this, just like we do everything, huh? The Winchester’s can handle anything, ain’t that right?”

The display looks sickeningly practiced somehow, Gabriel wonders how many times they’ve actually performed it. Too fucking many, clearly. He meets Cas’ eyes across the tops of the brothers’ heads, his own breath heavy in that usual poise of preparation he takes in battle. It’s a pregnant omega for Christ’s sake, not exactly breaking news, but dammit if they don’t want to fucking sob along with the pathetic little boys on their kitchen floor.

It reeks now, the kitchen. A horrific concoction of fear and panic and protection all stirred to create one thick, pungent stench that will probably never wash out of the walls. Damn, Gabriel likes this shirt.

“I can’t, Dean,” Sam says, in a horribly deadpanned voice, his eyes on Dean’s chest and his hands not gripping, just propped lax on Dean’s thighs. “Not this, Dean, I can’t, please, Dean, please don’t make me do this…”

The voice slowly disintegrates into sobs (which is somehow sadistically better than _nothing_ ), and hysterics joins the mix of smells in the air until they both move together, Dean pulling Sam right onto him until the boy all but straddles his lap, Sam’s head buried in the crook of Dean’s neck. Dean pets his hair gently and coos.

“It’s okay, Sammy, I’m here, baby brother, I’m here, shh, baby, we’re okay, everything’s okay.”

And the sobs that erupt the room, unadulterated sobs of pain and bewilderment, all pent up from the last few days, has tears in Gabriel’s own eyes. But he blinks them away because he’s an _alpha_ , dammit, and Castiel isn’t crying, get a fucking grip, Gabriel, _Jesus_.

Everything’s almost still for a few minutes, stuck fast in one frame of time as they all test the waters of what the others are going to do, before finally Gabriel gives in and ducks down to his haunches, a fair metre away from Dean the Animal.

“Dean,” he starts, drawing the beast-like eyes over to him before continuing. He offers his palms in surrender. “You wanna take him to the living room? I think the couch might be a bit more comfortable than ceramic tiles, huh?”

He doesn’t think Dean will reply at first, his eyes glazing over slightly even as the hand still moves over Sam’s hair, but after a few seconds he shifts slightly and nods. Gabriel smiles and backs off with his hands still raised, moving slowly out towards the living room with one eye still on them in case they need help. Teasing is one thing, but if Gabriel even attempted to put his hands on the kid now, Dean would flip out, and Sam would be alone, and that will _not_ happen.

Castiel leaves around the other side of the wall.

Gabriel watches them, sees Dean coax his brother into moving until they’re both begrudgingly on their feet, Sam latched to Dean’s side and Dean latched to Sam’s shoulders. They move as one being, Dean maneuvering and directing, whispering into Sam’s ear until they finally make it to the couch furthest from the one Castiel’s perched on, and slump down into it. Sam’s immediately curled so far into Dean his cries are almost inaudible. Gabriel parks down next to his own brother.

Silent minutes pass, ten, twenty, thirty until Sam’s dried himself out enough to just sit there, nestled into Dean’s now damp tee shirt. And another few go by before Dean finally looks up with the eyes of a man twice his age and asks timidly, voice dry,

“What should we do now?”

Castiel sighs beside Gabriel, contemplating, before nodding when he says, “We should go back to Pamela. Uh, Dr Barnes? She’ll let us know from there, anytime today, if that’s alright.”

Dean nods back. “Okay.” He angles his head until he can see Sam’s, offering a tiny smile when Sam comes up with red, tear-stained cheeks from his ribs. “There, you feel better now?”

“No,” Sam grumbles, and Gabriel can’t help the freaking relieved huff/laugh that leaves him. He’s just glad the kid didn’t cry himself into muteness or pass out from dehydration.

“Sure you do,” Dean says, shifting them both until Sam’s just sat beside him rather than on top of him. “Did you at least think this all through a little better? Now you know it’s not actually that bad, it could be worse, right?”

“You know you always say that and it always gets worse. I think you jinx it.” Sam sniffs and peers those gigantic puppy eyes up at his brother before swiping a hand over them. “I don’t see how it could get worse.”

“Now who’s jinxing it, huh?” Dean flicks Sam’s forehead. “Trust me, it could a whole lot worse than this. For starters, you could be pregnant with a demon baby. You ever thought of that, huh?”

Sam growls. “Same thing.”

“Nah, it’s not.” He tucks Sam into him comfortably and rests his chin on top of his mop head. “Some sleaze-ball alpha, sure, but most of ‘em don’t know their rights from their lefts, let alone how to control hell.”

“You don’t know your rights from your lefts,” Sam says, finally smiling, however the hell small it might be. Still a smile, right?

“Yeah, well, I’m not getting anybody pregnant, am I, so it’s fine…”

They go on for a few more minutes until Dean finally says they’re ready to go whenever and Sam doesn’t look anyone in the eye other than Dean.

It isn’t until Gabriel sees two traumatised omegas bantering with one another not even an hour after a hysterical fit that he realises just how fascinating these two beings are.  
And how much he suddenly wants to rip this sleaze-ball alphas dick off and feed it to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and kudos if you enjoyed :)
> 
> Follow me on tumblr: http://one-life-should-be-enough.tumblr.com/


	5. Brick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one, but i knew where it had to end, it was just that getting there took longer than I imagined. Anywho, enjoy! Also, that was a seriously quick update! That never happens!
> 
> Bit more love in this chapter, though not between who you think!
> 
> Comment if you enjoy pleeeeasse :) Or any tips with where this can go, I love hearing those.
> 
> Warnings for: forced incest, rape, torture (kind of). Make me aware of anymore please.

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Dean finds himself sat on a hospital gurney being gawped at by Dr Barnes. Sam, curled like a beetle at his side, cheeks still pudgy from all the crying and Castiel, stood like a statue of to the side with his arms folded, not convincing anyone he’s anything less than deadly. The only thing at all different is the room – now apparently the doctor’s office – and Gabriel with his new, _concerned_ face. Dean isn’t sure which one he hates more.

“At least you’re coherent, huh, Sam?” the doctor jokes, smiling shortly before looking over to Castiel and lifting her eyebrows. Sam doesn’t answer, or even lift his head. Dean just pats along his hair soothingly.

“How did you know?” Dean asks, clutching tighter when Sam curls closer. “About the pregnancy, I mean,” because nothing in this world could force Dean to say _pup_.

“Blood work,” she nods. “Garth mentioned it to me, thought I should check up on it. Urine tests came back positive, there’s no maybe’s here, kiddo. Pup’s in there.”

Dean nods because yeah, damn, that was what he was thinking. He’s not in the mood to glare right now because if he does that he’ll lose it. If even the slightest negative emotion along those lines enters his mind he’ll drop his shit and freak the fuck out, and he won’t do that to Sammy. He can’t, not right now.

“Can you find the alpha?”

Dr Barnes smiles softly. “Not without his blood.”

“That’s not a problem,” Dean growls, but shoves a stopper into that emotion before it goes any further. _Don’t Dean, it’s not worth it._

Pamela laughs. “I’m sure. I don’t think it matters at this point, honestly. Right now, we’ll go over options, let you both know what choices Sam here has to make-”

“There are no options,” Sam mutters into Dean’s tee-shirt, his fingers taking on the rhythmic pattern of clenching and unclenching as he sieves through his thoughts. Dean pauses.

“Sam…sure there are. You got tons of options,” he says, ducking his head to try for Sam’s eyes. They don’t appear. “ _Sammy_ -”

“I _know_ what you’re trying to say Dean, but I can’t. Mom wouldn’t like it,” Sam relays, his voice taking on that horrible blasé quality again. Dean flinches.

“Yeah, well mom’s dead. Okay? And that’s not true, she would _not_ want you having a kid at sixteen, Sam. You’re still a kid, you can’t _raise_ one, man, you can’t _have_ one, what about the rest of your life? You’re so young, dude, come on…”

Sam huffs a bitter, awful laugh and lifts his head to look Dean straight in the eye. “What life?”

Dean sighs. “Sam…”

“No, really Dean, what life? An hour ago, you wanted to run away and live on the streets, what kind of a life is that? We’re _used_ Dean, no one wants us; we never lived a life and we never will. At least this way I can give one to someone else.”

And Dean doesn’t know what to say.

“…you’re a kid,” he tries, but his voice is weak and pitiful and even Dean doesn’t believe it, even if it is the truest thing he's even spoken. “Please just think this through.”

“There’s nothing to think through. It’s my decision and my body and I get to decide. I know you enjoy thinking otherwise, but you’re wrong, especially about this. I don’t need to think anything through Dean, I’m not getting rid of it.” He shrugs from Dean’s grip then, peering down at his own stomach with a knot to his face Dean fucking hates being there. He lays a hand on the flat surface. “Mum wouldn’t want me to.”

And Dean wants to go crazy, he wants to flip out and throw shit and punch things because Sam’s just _sitting_ there, ignoring the fact that some _monster_ left seeds in his stomach for another monster to grow. Genes carry for fuck’s sake and Dean wants to scream it, wants to shake his stupid baby brother for _ever_ thinking their mom would want Sam to have a pup at fifteen for Christ’s sake, _it’s not fucking fair!_

But Dean doesn’t because that’s not what Sam needs. Sam needs support and stability and _intelligence_.

“Please, Sam, please,” Dean begs instead, moving to grasp the sides of that dead-panned face. “She wouldn’t want you to do this. I know it seems like crap right now, the whole thing is fucking bullshit, but you have to listen to me, please. Mom, Dad, they would hate the shit you’ve been through, it’d kill them. They wouldn’t want a grandkid born from that.”

Sam snaps and aims his narrowed eyes on Dean, shoving at his hands. “Dad? _Really_? Dad would care _at all_ what’s happened to us?”

“Of course he would-”

“God, you’re a hypocrite, you know that? Last week you couldn’t hate the man more but now you _love_ the guy, you actually think he _cares?_ Well then where is he Dean? ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t see him around here; where was he when you came limping down the stairs from Alastair’s fists every two weeks or that time I got _raped_ so many times I couldn’t feel my own legs, huh?”

Dean opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Sam scoffs at him and turns away.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Don’t you dare talk to me about _Dad_. If he gave a crap he’d be here right now and I wouldn’t have to talk to _you_.”

Dean recoils physically at that, backs off with a stupid frown on his face and water welling up in his eyes at Sam’s stubborn form. He doesn’t really mean that, Sam loves Dean, he needs Dean, he would never wish for Dean to be anywhere else but right here…right?

“Dean,” Castiel starts, and Dean gives the alpha his bewildered gaze because he can’t bear the betrayed look marring Sam’s face. “I’m stepping outside for some air, will you come with me?”

“I can’t-” he tries, but with the bitter look Sam purposely aims at him, he just nods. _He just nods_. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll come.”

When he stands, Sam doesn’t look at him; and when he leaves when Castiel holds open the door, Sam just sits there, eyes narrowed down and scowl still apparent, so Dean looks up at Gabriel. _I’ll kill you if you touch him_ , is what his scowl says.

Castiel’s silent on the walk outside, trailing the hospital floors expertly until they finally come to what looks like a back entrance and they both step into the cool midday air. Dean heads straight to the curb and sits down quickly before his legs can give way and the dumb alpha would have to catch him or something else equally embarrassing. At least this way it looks like his idea. To his surprise, Castiel lowers himself to Dean’s side and sits comfortably, the safe distance of a metre or so between them.

“He doesn’t mean it, you know,” he says. “He’s just-”

“If you say ‘hormonal’, so help me God I will punch you.”

Castiel chuckles. “Actually, that too. But what I was going to say was that this is all…surreal. It’ll take some time to get used to or to make his real decision, if keeping the pup isn’t already it.”

“Don’t call it that,” Dean snaps.

“Why not, Dean? That’s what it is, isn’t it?”

“No it’s not. It’s the fucking devil, man, and it’s inside my _brother_.” Dean feels the knot in his stomach tighten.

“I thought you said it wasn’t a demon baby?” When Dean looks up at him, he actually has the gall to be smiling. Dean just snarls as lightly as he can and everything just...comes out.

“Those guys…all of them, every single one. They were all evil. I mean, to do what they did…they knew _exactly_ how old he was but they did it anyway. First time I saw it, he was eleven, cried the whole time. First time they made _me_ do it… _fuck_. And Alastair. I mean he was a sick son of a bitch, trust me, I know, but at least with him we generally knew where we stood. We acted out, we got punished, we put a toe wrong, we got punished. But if he ever wanted something outta me I didn’t wanna give, he’d hurt him. Sam took everything and he took it willingly to save my hide. He’s my fucking hero, Cas, and he doesn’t want me around. I don’t think I know what to do with that.”

“That’s not true Dean,” a hand appears on Dean’s arm, tanned fingers and soft skinned – and Dean realises the alpha’s close, barely centimetres away and he wonders which one of them did the moving. Not that it matters. He’s close and that’s all that does. Dean leans into him because he’s a weak piece of shit asshole who can’t even look after one person, one _kid_. “He wants you around so much, I don’t think he knows how to express it. The way he _looks_ it you, it’s as though you lassoed the moon and gave it to him wrapped up in a pretty pink bow.” Dean eyes him, but Cas continues. “And you look at him like he’s a precious diamond that you need to protect at all cost. It’s unhealthy, but it’s beautiful, watching you two. Like yin and yang.”

Dean smiles the smallest one he can manage because he feels like he owes Cas something. His head moves to the blue-clad shoulder almost of its own accord and Dean can feel his warmth radiate along his side and down his arm. It’s nice. Dean doesn’t deserve it, but he can’t force himself away.

“You’re not used.”

The way it’s said - so optimistic and sure - Dean lifts his head and frowns at the alpha, disbelieving, and laughs.

“Of course we are,” he says, because aren’t they? That’s not purposely degrading or anything, it’s just the truth, they _are_ used up and unwanted. “We’ve been whores for a long time dude, I think if anyone is, we qualify.”

“Trust me, Dean, you are not _used_. That was just one time in your lives, and now here’s a new one. You’re safe and wanted and neither I nor Gabriel will ever find you _used_.”

Dean just stares at him for a second, peers into those beautiful, crystal blue eyes so sure and intense Dean would look away if he could. But he’s held there like magnetic force and he doesn’t move.

“Why are you doing this?” he whispers.

Castiel smiles and Dean thinks for the first time how stunning this man is ( _alpha, he's an alpha, Dean, we don't trust those, remember?_ ). This, everything, it’s too good to be true.

“Because we want to. And we like you, both you and Sam. We want to help you, so please don’t run away,” he says, knowingly. Right. Sam said.

“Have you ever taken in omegas before?”

The eye contact never breaks even for a second.

“No. But as I said, we like you. And we don’t want to see you split up or saddened, ever again. And I _will_ say it again, no move whatsoever will ever be taken towards either you or your brother without your explicit consent. If there is anything in this world I can promise you Dean, that is it.”

“So you _do_ want us to fuck you?”

And Dean mentally shoves himself off a cliff because those eyes leave his and he’s left feeling empty and cold and alone and without Sam…

“That’s out of the question, but personally speaking, I do hold a certain attraction for you, yes. I won’t lie Dean, but I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable whilst in our home, alright? I will never make any sort of move of that nature, I swear it.”

Dean nestles his head back to the shoulder because at least that offered some warmth in his mind besides the blue-hot eyes.

“It’s okay, Cas. Most people do.” He feels the shoulder lower slightly as its owner exhales, so Dean just nuzzles closer and okay, maybe he _does_ scent the guy, but Sam did it first and yeah, he smells really nice. And maybe when Dean isn’t so wounded he’ll regret the obvious weakness, but right now it’s comforting. Even if it makes him feel like shit for leaving Sam with those strangers and seeking comfort without him and...

“I know they do. But _most_ people shouldn’t force it.”

A hand, the one that used to be on Dean’s arm, still tanned and still soft, finds its way to his hair, stroking the strands down flat where Dean hasn’t brushed it out from the morning, grooming him. Yep, tomorrow, he’ll regret this. Now, though, he’s perfectly content.

“Has any other omega been pregnant? You know, from the ones you’ve saved. Have you ever had to do this before?”

“Once, a long time ago. Anna was with me, the red-headed beta you met?” Dean nods that he remembers her. “We brought the girl to the hospital and she was going _crazy_ , calling us murderers, screaming for help. When we’d found her she was bleeding from every opening in her body from this pup’s father, in so much pain but she still screamed for help from us. That was before Pamela worked here, though. She’d probably know what to do. But as far as I know, most omegas have operations when they first arrive at their house, with their pimps. They don’t like having their _playthings_ pregnant.” Dean might get offended at the term but the word is said with so much malice and so much anger, Dean knows he doesn’t mean it derogatively. He remembers all too clearly the Castiel from that night ( _last night dude, last night_ ).

“We had them,” Dean says. “First week we arrived there, the ‘doctor’ came round and carved into us right on the kitchen counter. I don’t think he knew what he was doing, just took a scalpel and started _cutting_ , me first, then Sam, they only gave us painkillers afterwards, but it was enough to knock us out for days, which was good, I guess. Alastair fucked me the second I woke up. He would have done Sam, too, but Sam was still bleeding. They’d stitched us up, I think, but he just wouldn’t stop. Azazel liked that, the raw pain in his eyes every time he pushed in, got him off quickly.”

Castiel shakes his head and Dean can feel the waves of hatred pouring off of him, sinking them both inside a puddle of anger and rage, but somehow, Dean still feels safe. He still huddles closer.

“I’m sorry,” he supplies, stroking a hand up and down the alphas arm, calming the torrents. “I don’t really know why I’m telling you this, I’m sorry; it’s disgusting, I get it. I’ll stop.”  
The hand stills in Dean’s hair until it’s moving, cupping the back of his skull and forcing his head back and up, right to Cas’ fiery eyes.

“Don’t do that,” he says, Dean frowns. “Don’t you _ever_ apologise for that again, do you understand me?” Dean nods with wide eyes. “This is not your fault and you will _never_ apologise again. I mean it Dean, never.”

Dean nods and smiles and frowns all at the same time, breathing in that scent and savouring it for as long as he can. Fuck, who knows, maybe it is time to trust again.

****

Gabriel watches Sam with narrowed, severe eyes as the kid picks at his nails and every now and then rubs an idle hand over his flat stomach. Fuck-shit, it’s like a fucking nightmare. Gabriel wants to go mad and storm straight out of the hospital, dig up those pathetic, snivelling excuses for alphas, tie them down to chairs and peel each layer of skin from their fuck-ugly bones until they give him every name of every alpha ever to fuck this _child_. He can’t do that: one, because he hasn’t _quite_ mastered the knack of reviving the dead, and two, because that isn’t what Sam wants, and right now, that’s all Gabriel’s about. Dammit.

“It’s a little early for any scans just yet, Sam, but I’ll let you know when I think it’s a good idea,” Pam says, eyeing Sam softly when he just nods and gulps, picking viciously at his thumb.

“Hey Sam?” He looks up shyly. “How are you feeling, right now? The truth, please.”

He flickers his eyes down, then back up, this time to Gabriel and they stay there, as if stuck, so Gabriel smiles and winks in the kindest way he knows. He waits for a few seconds, expecting to be released from the hold but when Sam’s somewhat desperate eyes stay pinned to his and Gabriel watches his chest expand and relax too rapidly for his liking, he sighs and smiles. Bully to the kid, because when Gabriel walks tentatively over to his side, he doesn’t flinch. He moves back, edging away slightly, but when Gabriel sits down beside him and tugs him in with one arm, he just melts and buries his face again. Gabriel pets his hair, just like Dean had.

“Dean hates me,” he wails, and Gabriel would laugh if it wasn’t so goddamn depressing. He shushes into his hair.

“No, sweetheart, he doesn’t hate you,” he hushes, rocking him back and forth, noting Pamela’s soulful gaze. “He could never hate you, even I know that.”

“How could _you_ know that?” Sam accuses, clutching Gabriel’s shirt so tightly, he’s pretty sure they’ll be finger imprints. “You don’t know anything about us.”

“I know because I have eyes, dopey. That kid loves you the same amount as you love him, it’s pretty obvious, trust me. You hurt his feelings, sure,” Sam sobs and Gabriel can feel dampness at his shoulder. “But that’s what brothers do. It’s our job, right? Piss the other off, hate each other, but that doesn’t mean we love each other any less. Cas and I fight like cats and dogs, but we’d be there till the end. It’s the same with you and Dean, especially with what you two’ve been through.”

“I was horrible,” he says, hiccuping like a little lost lamb and damn if Gabriel doesn’t pull him in impossibly tighter. “He doesn’t deserve any of what I said, he’s the best brother ever. He deserves better than me.”

“He knows you didn’t mean it, baby, it’s okay. He dotes on you like a stripper loves glitter, kiddo, trust me on this one,” Gabriel watches Pam’s smirk grow with one of his own. “Okay?”

Sam doesn’t respond for a good few seconds but his fingers do unpeel slightly from Gabriel’s shirt and he moves his head until just the crown, covered in fluffy, chestnut hair, is pressed into Gabriel’s peck. He strokes the flyways at the omegas neck until they resemble something like order, all the way up until Sam rises and swipes a stubborn hand over his face. Gabriel smirks when he finally opens his eyes.

“Howdy,” he greets, and Sam blinks in reply.

“Sorry,” he says, but Gabriel just rolls his eyes and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. The kid leans guiltily into his palm.

“None of that, sweetheart. It’s my job to protect you,” he says, and Sam looks up suspiciously but doesn’t say anything so neither does Gabriel. “I’m ecstatic to do it.”

Pamela coughs and they both look over to her in her swivel-chair, leaned back and knowing eyed. Gabriel narrows his at her.

“Well, from these results, Sam, I’d say you were… four weeks along? Four, five weeks. As I say, no scans until you’re at least eight weeks, maybe sooner, considering your circumstances.” Sam looks down and gulps. “It’s just a precaution, Sam, don’t worry, so far everything seems perfectly fine and normal. But I’ll be checking up every few days, just in case. I’m sure Gabe can give me the run down.” Sam looks between both smiles a few times before nodding. “Great. Here,” she leans back into her desk draw and pulls out a small stack of paper, “are some leaflets. Now, I know you’re planning on keeping it, but before you make any rash decisions, I want you to read over them. Having a pup at such a young age is a serious health risk, kiddo, especially with your background…”

“I don’t care what happens to me.” Gabriel does. Gabriel does so fucking much it hurts. He pulls Sam closer with a hand on his waist. “And people gave birth at younger than sixteen years ago, they managed just fine.”

“I know, kiddo. I’m just worried about your body’s reactions, is all. So many drugs and heats isn’t healthy, Sam, I don’t want you-”

“I don’t care about me.”

Pamela just smiles sadly and nods anyway. There’s no arguing right now, not really.

“I’ll be in touch. Now though, you’re free to go.”

Gabriel stands and reaches a hand to Sam, grasping his shoulders when he hops clean off the bed.

“I’ll see you around, Pam, okay?” he calls from the door, and they leave with a,

“Not too soon, I hope.”

They find Castiel and Dean out on the curb a few minutes later, Sam pushes further into Gabriel’s side at the sight of them melded into one. Huh. Castiel’s getting further than he is, the sly dog. They start when they smell them and Dean shoves so far away from Castiel, it’s like repelling magnets, all but twirling on one foot back to his brother.

“ _Sam_ ,” he tries, but Sam just glances up, blinks a few times at his gaping brother before looking guiltily away and replacing the grip on Gabriel’s shirt with a fresher one.

They all head to the car in silence and once everyone’s in, the two omegas further from each other than Gabriel’s ever seen them in the backseat, Cas starts the car and they’re on their way. It’s a long, quiet ride.

“Sammy, please,” Dean says once they’re safely in the living room, but Sam just separates from the rest of them and darts off towards the stairs. Dean moves to follow him but the hand Castiel places on his shoulder halts him and he turns back to share a long, meaningful gaze until Dean nods and Castiel smiles. Okay, what the fuck?

“He’ll come around, Dean,” Cas says, patting the shoulder softly. “Just give him some time.”

“He thinks you’re mad at him,” Gabriel offers, landing solidly in the couch he had to vacate an hour ago. “Cas is right, give him some space for an hour or so and you’ll both be right as rain again in no time.”

Dean eyes him as though he’s about to snap but apparently something inside of him reasons with that option and he just closes his eyes and nods. He sits down in the exact same spot, which looks oddly empty now without the sloth-boy clinging onto him.

“Would you like something to eat, Dean? Or drink?” Castiel asks on the way to the kitchen. Dean just shakes his head, so Cas says, “I’ll bring you some water, if that’s okay?” And he’s gone.

“Dean?” Gabriel starts, waiting for the green-eyes before continuing. “I’m sorry. About all of this, about everything. And if you’re pissed off about anything I’m doing, I wanna apologise for that as well. I’m not gonna touch your brother, I swear it.”

“You seemed pretty _cozy_ a minute ago,” he hisses.

“Hark who’s talking,” he smiles. “You’re right, though, I like him. Probably the same way Cas likes you. And, in the same way, Cas won’t touch you without your consent, and I won’t touch Sam without his. If I do, I hereby allow Castiel to snap my neck. With you as my witness.”

Dean smiles the tiniest smile, but Gabriel feels like he’s gotten somewhere. He grins back, just as Castiel returns with a glass of water and a coffee, which he hands to Gabriel, then Dean, until he finally sits down on the center armchair, playing middle ground. They both watch as Dean sips at the water.

“How long can we stay here?” he asks, wincing before the whole question is even out.

Castiel blinks. “For as long as you want, Dean, we told you that. You and Sam are free to reside here for as long as you’d like. At the very least until Sam’s eighteen, and especially if he has a pup with him, you should really stick around a stable environment…”

Something visibly seems to snap in Dean’s head, his face tightens harshly and his throat erupts in a deep growl until he shoves up to his feet and the glass is over the room and smashing into a wall in nanoseconds, water flying everywhere in its wake. Gabriel and Castiel are one their feet in another few seconds, Castiel making it first with his hands crushing Dean’s head, staring deep into his eyes until Gabriel makes it over, grabbing the omega’s arms to hold behind his back. He’s fucking _strong_ for what he is and Gabriel uses force he hasn’t had to in years. After a few seconds of crying and sobbing and crazed flailing, Castiel finally says the combination of words that halt him in his tracks: “Sam will hear you.” Even though Gabriel’s pretty sure he already has, ‘cause this dude can _freak_.

They lower him into Cas’ armchair, practically perched on top of his lap so Gabriel kneels down beside it and keeps up the rhythmic stroking through his hair. Apparently he’s pretty decent at doing that.

“Ssh, Dean, hush, you’re okay,” Cas says, rocking him back and forth as Dean nuzzles his tears into his alpha’s neck. “Sam’s alive and he’s safe, okay? He’s safe, Dean, you’re both safe and together and no-one is allowed to hurt you ever again, you understand? I promise Dean, we’ll take care of you.”

Dean’s chants pause Cas though, just so they can both listen to him. “It’s not fair on him, _it’s not fair_ , why couldn’t it have been me? Sam doesn’t deserve any of this, he _always_ gets the shitty end of the stick and I always come out on top, it’s not fair, he doesn’t deserve it, I love him, why did this have to happen to him?”

“I think you’ve both had a pretty rough deal, kiddo,” Gabriel sooths, petting and grooming his hair. It’s nothing sexual, not at all, just calming and family-like, soothing. “But he’s gonna be okay. You’re both gonna be okay, because now you’ve got me and Cas and nothing bad’ll happen to either of you, not while we’re around. And we’ll be around for a good long while yet, sweetheart, don’t you worry.”

A few more minutes pass, Dean cries his now silent tears into Cas’ shirt until there’s a whole wet-patch, his scent narrows down from fucking cutthroat to something softer and breathable and they stop panicking that he might have a panic attack. Even later after that, he seems to realise exactly what he’s doing and straightens up completely, embarrassment flooding his scent, until he climbs quickly off Cas’ lap and shrugs himself out.

“Sorry,” he says. He looks over at the broken glass, and down at the two alphas on their knees for him. Well, one on his knees, the other’s sat on a chair, but same difference. “Fuck. I’m really sorry, _dammit_ , I didn’t mean to do it, I just…”

Cas is up in seconds and by his side. “What did I say about apologizing? Dean, it’s okay. Everything’s okay, I promise you. Now go and see your brother, we’ll clear this up.”

Dean shuffles on the spot for a second, glancing, caught between both of them before nodding and setting off. “Thank you.” It carries a lot.

****

Sam scents Dean before he sees him because it’s that freaking _strong_. He looks up and waits for his brother to find it in himself to open the door. He prompts with, “Dean?” and the door creaks open to his brothers face; tear-streaked and puffy as he walks in, shuffling and visibly trembling.

“Crap. Dean, are you okay? What happened?” Dean crawls onto the bed and lays down at Sam’s side. He nuzzles his head into Sam’s ribs and Sam strokes his hair instantly, feeling his skull shiver along with his shaking. “Dean?”

A humourless chuckle sounds, vibrating Sam’s bones. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? Sam…I’m so sorry. It’s your choice, all of it, everything, you need to make the decision and it’s not my place to tell you what to do. And you’re right. Dad’s a useless piece of shit.”

Sam huffs a laugh of his own and keeps stroking, pulling his six foot brother tight along his side, hoping the shaking will stop soon because it’s beginning to really freak him out. “I’m sorry I said what I did. I never want you to leave me, please? Please don’t ever leave me Dean, I’m really sorry.”

Dean just curls in tight and lays his head on Sam’s stomach, stuffing his nose beside his belly-button underneath his shirt. “I’m never leaving you, Sammy, I promise. I love you, baby boy.”

Sam smiles. “I love you too. Dean?”

“Yeah, Sam?”

“Can I have the pup?”

He stills for a second, draws in one giant breath, and, on the exhale, says, “If that’s what you want, Sammy. I’ll be here every step of the way. Even when you get fat.”

Sam laughs. “Thanks Dean.”


	6. Rambling On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for sad stuff, panic attacks, poor Sammy...again. Brotherly feeeeeels on both sides!
> 
> This chapter was hell to write, I've been starting and re-starting for over five days now and I just got back from the beach and FINALLY this all just happened. And I can sleep now, so yayy! Anywho, enjoy!

_“Castiel…”_

_The smell’s worse now, it fills the room with every one of his mother’s heartbeats, every second she moves towards her final breath._

_“Mommy,” he sniffles, and oh, he can scent his own fear; mixing with the blood and the sick, the room’s natural essence of musk and old, rotting wood. He clutches at her trembling hand and holds it close to his heart like he used to with his teddy bear,_ so close _, but she’s slipping away from him, every draw of breath inching towards her last…she lays a hand on Castiel’s cheek and it’s warm and wet with blood. He leans into it anyway._

_“I’m…I’m not angry, sweetheart…you did…what – what you had to do,” she breathes out finally, gulping in ragged lungs full of air in between her words. Castiel knows what she’s talking about. The alpha on the floor only a little way off, bleeding out beside Gabriel’s unconscious frame…the one that Castiel killed with his beta daddy’s shotgun. She should be angry, he saved Gabriel and Anna, he saved his siblings, but he didn’t save her or beta dad. He should’ve saved them._

_“I’m sorry, mommy, I tried to save you,” he wails, clutching her hand even tighter, shuffling on his busted knees even closer to her side. He’s covered in blood; beta daddy’s, omega mommy’s, Anna’s, his own. Gabriel’s lucky, he was out of the fight before it even began._

_“Hush, precious child,” she croons, a wavering smile touching her lips before it drops away like it was all just too much effort. “This isn’t your fault little one, promise me you understand that?” Castiel nods because he knows she wants him to. She smiles that tiny smile again. “Good boy. You’re my good boy, Castiel, such a good boy…” Her head lulls to the side and Castiel sobs, inhales so loudly it all but echoes through the cabin, his tears mingle onto her blood stained dressing gown. But her eyes stay open and they keep blinking up at him, she’s just lost the battle with her spine muscles, so Castiel keeps holding on. “Tell Anna and Gabriel…tell them I love them, baby. Tell them I love them…just as much as I love you. How – how much do I love you, Castiel?”_

_Castiel sobs in his breath and hisses out a, “To the moon and back, mommy.”_

_She forces out a painful, awful laugh. “Good boy, baby.”_

_“I love you, mommy,” he cries, his knees crowding so far forwards they stick with the blood on her ribs, drying already from the knife wounds dotting along her sides. “When…when you see beta daddy, tell him I love him, too? When you’re up in heaven with him, please tell him to be happy. Tell him not to worry anymore, okay? Please, mommy, don’t worry about us. I’ll take care of everyone, I promise you, mommy, I promise.”_

_A trembling hand rises to his face. “I know you will, honey, I know. But you have to promise me something, okay?” Castiel nods fervently with wide eyes. “Don’t…don’t go looking for r-revenge, don’t go after the alpha. Forgiveness, Castiel, just like God tells us to, we must f-forgive. Promise me you’ll move on.”_

_Castiel frowns and he’s seconds from babbling, from screaming that the man won’t get away with this, that Castiel can’t just let him get away with murdering his parents…but his mom’s eyes close and she drifts, lets out one long breath and her hand falters, she loses the grip and Castiel…Castiel does scream then. He screams long and hard and he rocks into her, he buries himself in her pink, fluffy dressing gown just like he does every night when he gets lonely up in his room, when he sneaks down to the living room and watches Judge Judy snuggled up beside his moms._

_It’s almost thirty minutes before Gabriel opens his eyes, another five before he musters the strength to actually face the room, to see his dead parents, to uncurl his baby brother from the body of omega-mommy – ten minutes even after that when Castiel splashes water on Anna’s bloodied face._

_And all three of them walk out to the woods like limpets attached to each other, finally hearing the sirens of the police long no longer needed in the vast distance…_

Castiel forces his eyes open before the dream can progress anymore. Well, not dream, not really; that was a flashback. It was a memory, an awful, terrible memory that’s been haunting his mind since the very day it happened all those years ago, the night of his eighth birthday.

He could recite every instance now, if he wanted to.

God, they were cutting the cake. Beta-dad was holding the knife, they were all singing happy birthday, wearing party hats, all wrapped in their pajamas like they do every night out at the cabin – when the knife moved from being held aloft in the air to being delved straight into Castiel’s father’s chest. He died instantly, Gabriel leapt forwards, he was knocked out. The man in black came out from behind the body and moved in on omega-mom, crooning filthy phrases at her, “little omega whore, thought you could run, huh?” and, “I knew I would find you eventually, you little slut. I’ll kill you family in front of you, shall I? Make you suffer?” Castiel didn’t understand them back then, but he does now. He’d ran to the wall, pulled of the shotgun beta-dad always used to brag about, and he shot the alpha once in the stomach, twice in the chest and another time in his face. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but the man needed to die and he needed to save his family, it was basic, early-alpha instinct. He turned back to his mother for a well needed hug and she was on the floor. Castiel shot at the second man, but he got away with barely a scratch.

He didn’t keep his mother’s promise. In his mind, he never actually promised anyway, so it was never so bad. Castiel, Anna and Gabriel tracked the bastard down and slit his throat. It was the first man Castiel ever killed and he was ten – well, the first man he ever _sought out_ to kill. Naomi found them a few years later and they were all trained properly. It was good. Castiel did and still does enjoy exacting revenge; especially in place of omegas without their rights or undergoing violent abuse.

Gabriel had told him the truth about their mother when Castiel was fifteen. She was raised in a whore house, prostituted onto alphas paying good money until she managed to run and heir father found her out by the lake near his cabin. They mated, they ran, and they lived happily ever after with three kids. Until her past caught up with her.

They found said whore-house and torched it with more gasoline than strictly necessary, but it went up beautifully.

Castiel’s shaking. _God damn it_. He hasn’t so much as spared a single thought for those years in a very long time. He doesn’t appreciate his mind bringing it up at its own accord…

And then Castiel hears the screaming.

At first he thinks it’s just in his head still, an echo of Anna’s cries before she was knocked to the floor, but he rubs a hand over his head, sits up in bed and listens. It’s not in his head and it sounds distinctly like _Samomegaprotect_ , so he’s up and out of his covers like lightening, not even bothering to slip on a tee. If those boys are in danger, he’d run in their butt-naked covered in killer-bees.

He swings himself round corners, darts down one flight of stairs with his legs pumping the entire way until he manages to swing the door open and flat out sprint into the room.

Two blurs of blue and navy dart somewhere in his vision before he can focus down, the screaming switching to crying and he stumbles back from the stench of cutthroat fear.

“Dean?” he pants, scanning the room. “What’s going on, are you okay?”

He locates them quickly and his feet drag him over there of their own accord, over to the small wall gap beside the bathroom door, the two nestled like one entity on the floor beside each other. And like Castiel’s grown accustomed to seeing over the past four weeks, Sam’s buried himself on his brothers lap, crowding in like a terrified animal and Castiel’s strides have taken him to barely a metre away and he’s already bending down, reaching for them to hold and stroke and calm because they’re omegas in his home, they smell like his home and he needs to _protectprotectprotect_.

But Dean sucks in a ragged, desperate breath and pushes it out in an almost timid, vicious scream, like he has to force it with every threat he has, “ _Don’t touch him!_ ”

And Castiel recoils with sheer will alone because he wants to hug them both, scent them both and care for them both, but he can’t because Dean's told him not to. He’s to do what Dean says, he’s learnt that so far. So he trips a step back and holds his hands in a placating surrender, physically fighting the itch to crawl onto the floor with the both of them - especially when Sam sucks in a raging sob that racks both their bodies.

“Sam…” Castiel tries, but the boy just cries quickly again, his voice rising to strong, _loud_ hysterics until Dean tugs him in ridiculously tighter towards his ribs, rocking him with his eyes like stones on Castiel. “What happened?” Castiel asks him instead. “Are you hurt? You need to tell me if you’re hurt, Dean, I can help,” he steps forward again without even thinking about it. Dean trips over his breath for the second time and hiccups, before growling a seriously fuck-off growl Castiel wouldn’t be unaccustomed to hearing from an alpha.

Castiel backs off, impressed.

Then the thunder of footsteps sounds up the corridor and a half naked Gabriel charges into the room wielding the Rock Island TAC he's probably been sleeping with, waving it out in front of him. Castiel halts the bombarding form with a stern hand to his bare chest and a serious, _don’t-be-an-idiot_ expression.

“What the _fucks_ going on?” he shouts with the adrenaline, his eyes wide looking from the boys to Castiel and back to the boys again. “I heard screaming, who’s hurt?”

He pushes on Castiel’s hand, advancing, so the alpha shoves his older brother slightly away, sternly taking his wrist and lowering the gun to the floor. “Calm down,” Castiel hisses, deciding that taking the loaded gun from his freaked out brother is probably the best thing, so he pries it from his hands, flicks on the safety and throws it gently onto the bed.

Castiel turns back to the brothers.

Dean’s eyes are leaking now, too, and Castiel snaps back into _alphaprotectsafe_ mode to demand what the hell is going one here. So he kneels down as gently as he possibly can, as far away as that alpha instincts will let him, and he looks into Dean’s eyes at the same level. He lifts a hand as a placating gesture. “Dean…we won’t touch you, I promise. But you need to tell me if either one of you is hurt, right now. Dean? Are you or your brother injured in anyway?”

A few seconds pass and Castiel thinks the omega won’t answer, the brother in his arms seriously bordering on hyperventilating, but with Gabriel’s impatient huff, he sniffs and shakes his head. Castiel sighs in bitter relief. “Good, okay, that’s good. Would…would you mind telling us what exactly happened?”

And with Castiel’s words, Sam sounds as though he’s choking on the air, his breath leaving and entering his body so harshly, it sounds painful, he sobs through it all and Dean’s scent of outright fear turns to total terror. “Fuck,” He swings his brother out from beside him and props him against the wall, brushing his fingers through the boys freshly cut hair and stroking a quick hand along his arm.

“Sammy, baby, come on,” he wheezes, all but straddling his little brother’s lap and peering into those fucking petrified hazel eyes. “Shh, Sam, come on, you’re okay, I’m here, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

Castiel can recognise a panic attack when he sees one; Anna used to get them all the time when they were teenagers, so he scoots past the omega pair, sticking closer to the bed than them, and dodges into the bathroom. He emerges just seconds later with a cool, damp flannel and lowers to Dean’s side, holding the thing as a peace offering. Dean looks down at it, looks up at Castiel’s hopefully sincere face, before waiting a second or so until he timidly takes the soggy thing. He dabs it to Sam’s forehead.

“Sammy?” he tries, his voice raw and timid. Christ, he was crying. “Hey, kiddo, you okay?”

Sam just sucks in one huge breath, holds in the sob that wants to come out as well as his breathing, his entire body trembling like a mad man, but Dean just smiles softly and shakes his head. “Come on now, Sam, don’t hold it in, you need to breath. Shh, baby-brother, you gotta breathe, come on, let it out, kiddo, come on, in, out, in, out…”

Sam lets out the breath – jagged and harsh, but sucks in another one when Dean asks him to, _inoutinout_ just like Dean says, his eyes sticking to those oak-leaf green like their the centre of the earth, though to Sam, Castiel supposes, they kind of are.

Gabriel steps up beside him, and Castiel can smell his apprehension. He can feel his slight trembling.

“He’ll be okay,” Castiel reassures the room, a quarter for Sam, a quarter for Dean, a quarter for Gabriel and the last for himself. _He’ll be fine in a few minutes._

Dean just ignores him, still chanting and reassuring his brother with an open, kind, _bewildered_ smile as he strokes down the bed-head hair. “There you go, Sammy, there you go, kiddo, you’re okay, everything’s okay, baby, come on now, shh, little one, we’re both okay…”

Castiel looks to his own big brother with wide, knowing eyes. Gabriel just pats an awkward hand to his bare back without taking his eyes from the scene and they both stand like that for long minutes, side by side, touching like two alpha brothers are allowed to and watching with immature curiosity as Sam’s cutthroat terror dissipates to something even slightly softer.

“Maybe you should take him for a walk, Dean,” Castiel offers, he remembers doing it with Anna. “A change of scenery might be good, what about the study?”

They feel comfortable in the study, Castiel knows. He’s watched them in there hundreds of times over the last four weeks, they’re happy up there. Most nights the alphas join them, to sieve through records or read or (on one fantastic night) play tons of board games the omegas always won despite their insistence on the alphas cheating. Honestly, Castiel never let them win once.

Dean waits for a few seconds, as though he’s completely blanking Castiel, but then he just nods, once Sam seems to have stopped quaking quite so badly, and helps his brother into standing. Castiel has to hold himself back from helping and he knows Gabriel does, too, they both just lead the silent way out of the door, along the corridor a way, up a flight of short stairs, past Castiel’s bedroom (which stinks of worry in its own right, Gabriel gives him a raised-eyebrow look), and into the study.

They watch with twitching hands when Dean perches Sam on the leather couch, sits beside him without crowding him, and laces their fingers together. They’re like two angels, Castiel thinks. Two angels with tear streaked cheeks, trembling fingers and horrified scents to counter even that first horrific night.

“Hey, Sam?” Dean asks, ducking his head to catch Sam’s eye. Sam looks up at him tiredly, blinking slowly like an owl before aiming his gaze over to the alphas in the doorway.

Castiel coughs under the heavy gaze of omega, “I don’t think I feel comfortable leaving you both right now,” he says, though he still hovers awkwardly and switches his weight slowly from foot to foot.

“Just pretend like we’re not here,” Gabriel says, offering a grin until both brothers just appear bored and turn back to each other like magnets. The alphas walk over quietly and take the large step up to the next floor with the floor-ceiling window, maybe a metre off the ground. They sit a fair few metres away, completely naked from the waist up, and watch the pair with baited breath.

“You doing better, baby?” Dean asks, releasing one hand and sweeping it over Sam’s forehead.

“Don’t call me that,” Sam grumbles half-heartedly, his speaking voice rough and harsh, croaked from all the crying. Dean smiles back at him.

“Right, sorry, Sammy. You’re not a baby, I forget,” he says, looping another hand back over his brother’s shoulder and pulling him into his ribs tighter. “So, you doing better, Sam?”

“’M’fine,” he whispers, his body racking in a double yawn, so cute and childlike, Castiel wants to just wrap him up in a woollen blanket and stroke him like a puppy in front of a huge fireplace. “Just Alastair again.”

 _Again_. Yes, again is right, really, though it’s never been this bad before, at least to Castiel’s knowledge. Over the previous few weeks, Castiel’s woken up a number of times to one of the two sobbing and crying, until he can hear muttered words outside of their door when he goes to check, relief flooding the fear. It’s never been panic-attack bad before.

“Sure it is,” Dean sighs, tugging him closer. “Always is, right? Although, actually, last week I had that creepy Edgar dude, so that shook things up a bit, I guess.”

It always fascinates Castiel how the two manage to talk themselves through anything. Like Dean when Sam was incoherent from the drugs, or when he found out about the baby, Sam talking Dean through the ultrasound scan with a childish grin on his face as though Dean was completely overreacting. They really are equals to the other, one pushes, the other pulls and so on and so on. They’re soul mates.

Sam snorts and yawns again, though this time when he finishes he looks up to Dean with a new found fear in his eyes. Dean just tucks the boys head into his shoulder and continues his rhythmic stroking. “S’ok, Sammy, you can go back to sleep. It won’t happen again in one night, trust me, baby-brother, you’ll be fine, I’ve got you.” He turns his head tentatively to Castiel, his eyes narrowed to the floor. “Can…uh, can we put a record on? Just to, uh, to calm…everything. Please?” His voice is timid and pleading and Castiel all but darts over to the record player at those words.

“Of course, Dean, that’s perfectly fine. What would you like?” he says, already sifting through for the one he just knows Dean’s gonna say. The pair have been listening to it none-stop for the last ten days, ever since they plucked up the courage to ask if they can use the vinyl’s in the cupboard rather than just the one’s beside the player. They put it back every evening with such precision and care, it’s as though they never touched it to begin with.

“I-I don’t mind.” Castiel blinks. “Whatever you feel cool with is fine.”

Castiel hates him like this. It’s rare really, only after a nightmare night do either of them get so irrefutably terrified around the alphas, but every time Dean avoids his gaze like it’s made of the sun, he wants to weep at the omega’s feet and beg on his knees.

Castiel slides Led Zep’s _Physical Graffiti_ album into the player and places the needle at the black surface. He just catches Dean’s pleased smile before he hides his face in Sam’s head, tugs Sam’s face into his chest.

The record doesn’t have _‘Rambling On’_ on it (Dean’s favourite), but it does have _‘Kashmir’_ , and both boys enjoy that one. The low sounds of _‘Custard Pie’_ fill the room, and Castiel goes back to sit with Gabriel.

“You can go to sleep, you know,” Gabriel says, meeting Dean’s timidly suspicious gaze with a quick, easy smile. “We’ll be here the whole time, you’ll do great.”

Dean just blinks sloppily up at him, his eyes and face drooping until he just nods, pulls Sam down with him until they both lay as big-brother, big spoon, little-brother, little spoon, both letting out a tired yawn in unison. They both just look finished and resigned and it just breaks Castiel’s heart into a thousand million pieces.

And when Dean blinks up blearily at them, whispers an incoherent, “Please don’t hurt him; we like it here,” that he’ll probably forget he’s said in the morning, Castiel is just _done_.

\----

Sam waking up again is a slow process, but he fights on with it like a trooper. His eyes open first, blinking into the early morning sun at the un-blinded windows of the study, before the rest of his body manages to react and he shields his tender morning eyes with an arm.

Dean’s still snoring behind him, his hefty breathes tickling Sam’s neck, pushing at the small hairs there. His hand is a vice around Sam’s middle, but it feels safe and secure, so Sam doesn’t do anything other than snuggles back in deeper, suck in the scent of the real Dean and not the terrified one he had to smell last night.

 _Last night_. Not good. Sam remembers it like a tide, rushing into his mind and reminding him just how pathetic and immature he is, making Dean cry with him because he freaked out monumentally, Gabriel and Castiel charging into their room because they thought someone was being murdered, but no, it was just poor little Sammy, poor little toddler Sammy with stupid pregnancy hormones and a chubby belly and a tiny pain thresh-hold. They even stayed with them in the study, but…

Sam looks up to the step on the other side of the room, over by the offending window with the desk and even more bookshelves…

Gabriel pauses in mid-stretch at Sam’s gaze, lets out his breath from where he’s sitting, _topless_ , with an amused huff and gives Sam a wave. He looks nice like that; hair ruffled from sleep, face tinged red from the rude awakening and his soft but firm torso all perfect with sparsely haired golden…

“Take a picture, Sammy,” he says amusedly, his voice hushed for their still slumbering brothers, but Sam’s face lights up like a Christmas tree nonetheless. He ducks his head back down and feels out his beating heart.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, turning back into the couch cushion and scenting his brother there, sucking in that perfect smell for as long as he can before he hears Gabriel start to move again. _Crap_.

“You feeling better, kiddo?” he asks, trotting down the two stairs and stalking over in an exaggeratedly casual manor when Sam glances back up at him. Sam blinks, avoiding the navy boxers from his vision altogether and deciding the smirking face is better grounds. Kind of.

“’M’fine,” he grumbles back.

“Good,” Gabriel sings. “You certainly smell better, I’ll give you that. How ‘bout you and me leave the two sleeping werewolves here to their beauty sleep and go grab some coffee and hot chocolate, huh? I have it one good authority Ellen picked up some more Reese’s cups, too, how ‘bout a good, old fashioned heart-disease breakfast?” Sam pauses. “Come on, a sugar rush’ll do you good, what d’ya say?”

“Okay,” Sam says tentatively, blinking up and smiling slightly because his mind answered before he’d even really thought about it – or maybe it was his heart? The idea just seems immature and naïve now though, so head it is. He tries to shift, but the hand’s firmly in place, holding him flat. “Ah,” he says. He looks up at Gabriel’s apparently highly amused face and returns it with a small smile of his own before lowering himself and going down that way.

“Sammy?” Dean says blearily, and Sam takes that as his queue and just shoves out the rest of the way out, leaving behind one softly growling Dean and a grabby hand reaching out for him.

Sam leans down and pets his brother’s cheek. “Go back to sleep, Dean, I’m fine. Go to sleep, big-brother, okay? I’ll be just downstairs, I swear, come find me when you and Cas wake up.”

Dean just grumbles something nonsensical and turns round the other way, pulling the blanket that was draped over them (when did that happen?) and cuddling onto it like a teddy-bear. Or like a lighter, tinier version of Sam.

Sam looks up at Gabriel with an _I’m prepared and ready to face the world_ face, shoving his omega chest out to look strong. He probably just looks like an idiot, especially when Gabriel simply chuckles, reaches out a hand to touch before thinking better of it and drawing it back. Sam smiles weakly. Of course he doesn’t want to touch, not after last night. Sure, Sam wants him to, Sam likes that soft alpha touch, it reminds him that they’re not all so bad, but it’s not up to Sam. And last night was the cherry on the cake; Gabriel once said he likes Sam but how can that possibly be true? Sam’s gross.

The hot chocolate isn’t though. Sam clutches the warm cup in both hands, coveting the heat and sniffing it in, drawing the soft tendrils of steam into his nose. Gabriel sits beside him, blowing slowly on his own cup of coffee before deciding something in his mind and dolloping another sugar cube in. Sam smiles up at him.

“I’m sorry for waking you up,” Sam offers, even though he knows it’s pretty useless. The three deserve more than a dumb apology for a full blown panic attack – Sam had smelt all their fear and he’s the one that did it to them, they had to watch him have a meltdown like a baby girl.

Gabriel tuts at him and rolls his eyes. “You know, I wish you’d stop apologising for everything. ‘I’m sorry I’m pregnant’, ‘I’m sorry alphas raped me’, ‘I’m sorry for having a panic attack that’s beyond my control’.” Okay, Sam does not sound like that; he grimaces at the alpha. “Seriously, dude, chill out. This – none of this is any of your fault, okay? I swear to the good lord above, you apologise for something you didn’t mean to do again, I will spank you over my knee like a baby. Unless you willingly defile my laptop.”

Sam grins at the words for the first time in a while; he’s always grinning with Gabriel. Gabriel’s funny.

“Speaking of my laptop…” Sam’s eyes widen. Shit, he didn’t give it a virus, did he? He’d been careful, he only went on sites that looked okay – “I saw an adoption site in the history. You wanna tell me about that?” No virus. It’s worse. Why the hell didn’t he think to delete the history, _really, Sam?_ “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with it, kiddo, I actually think it’s a swell idea,” Sam lifts an eyebrow at ‘swell’ and Gabriel winks cockily back. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” he takes a sip of his coffee and eyes Sam over the rim until Sam does the same.

“I’m not sure what I want to do yet, I guess I just didn’t wanna say anything until I’m sure.” Sam draws in a deep breath. “Can – can I tell you something?”

Gabriel rolls his eyes and grins. “You can tell me anything, sweetheart.”

Sam nods and whispers it, “I…I don’t wanna keep it. I know it’s pointless having it and everything if I don’t want to raise it and stuff, I just…I dunno. I want it to be my choice, I guess. And at least this way I can help someone else start a new life, I mean, or give them one. I’m…sorry for using your laptop for that without telling you.”

Gabriel huffs out a pleased laugh and claps a hand to Sam’s shoulder without thinking about it, the touch perfect and electrifying, “Use my laptop for anything, dude, _porn_ if you have to. Just don’t get it all messed up, will you, ‘cause lemme tell ya, jizz is a bitch to clean of keys… Anyways, I digress.” He smiles and his hand stays put, massaging the taught muscle. “I think you’re the bravest kid I’ve ever met, you know that? You and Dean, but he’s not really a kid anymore, so… I couldn’t do what you’re doing, Sammy, and I admire your decision more than I can tell you. You’re an amazing little man-”

And then before Sam has a chance to decide why he’s such an idiot, he’s leaning over in his seat, grabbing Gabriel’s perfect face in his hands and pressing his lips to the alpha’s. It’s perfect. Gabriel’s perfect, he feels perfect, he smells perfect…but he’s not moving back, and when Sam hears him gulp against him, he swings open his eyes to two golden orbs glaring back at him, pissed that Sam would even dare go near him, and _fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_ ,

Sam leaps away as quickly as he can, darting straight of the chair and into the next one, dropping to the floor like a sack of potatoes, landing in a heap like the stupid little bastard he is; first he’s forced into it, now he’s forcing it, he’s every bit as bad as all those alphas back at Alastair’s…

Gabriel stands above him and Sam crawls into sitting, leaning back on his hands and waiting patiently (trembling) for the inevitable punishment about to come his way – “I’m sorry, please, I’m really sorry, I swear, I won’t do it again, I didn’t mean to…”

“Sammy, kiddo,” the alphas says, stepping forwards and Sam doesn’t mean to flinch, but he does because he’s a stupid little omega bitch, just like they always said, he _is_ begging for it, _clearly_ , “Fuck, Sam, I’m sorry –”

“Sam?” And that’s Castiel’s voice, Castiel watching his slut actions this time, standing with his hands on his hips and glaring down at him too. He huffs out a _disappointed_ breath. “Uh, Sam? Dean's upstairs in the study, he said to go up for him...are you okay?”

Right, Dean. Dean Sam can deal with and he scrambles up without another glance at either of them, darting from the room like a bashful whore at a brothel…

The last thing he hears before scarpering back up the stairs is Castiel’s raised voice hissing, “What the _fuck_ did you do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone notices or wonders or anything, I have changed this chapter slightly in that Dean no longer goes into heat at the end of it. I haven't been able to continue this fic for aaaaages but today I'm giving it a strong ass go before college so wish me luck!! 
> 
> *I promise Dean's heat will make an appearance as soon as. :)


	7. Settle Down It'll All Be Clear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am...sooooooooo sorry this took that long!!! But it's here to stay now and I'll be updating my others in time to come :) enjoy.
> 
>  
> 
> Oh, plus, I changed it so Dena's not going into heat yet, but don't worry, he will be soon. ;)

Music makes everything better—that’s just a fact.

So music is good, but Led Zeppelin? Led Zep is the fucking _messiah_ of making shit better. And with the notes of _Rambling_ _On_ filling the study and the hypnotic cocktail of alpha-omega combined (when the fuck did that even happen?), who the fuck cares what happens later? Or what the hell’s happened since—Sam’s actually happy (after that colossal fuck-up earlier), Dean has his music and his baby brother and there’s a scent of two alphas swarming the room that doesn’t make him want to barf up the rest of last night’s grub. So, yeah. Dean’s feeling pretty optimistic today.

Shocker there that it’s Sam’s cutthroat scent that fuck’s it all up the ass then, huh?

Dean’s on his feet and darting to the door before his baby bro can even slide the thing open and rush his way through. But he manages to catch Sam’s shoulders in a tight grip before either can make another move—he crushes the kid to his chest and holds him close and steady, letting them scent at each other before moving off and dealing with the inevitable problem. Fuck. Everything was going so well.

“Hey, Sammy, you’re good, man, you’re good,” he hushes into the fluff of sleep hair (Cas all but strapped him down to have it cut—not literally, of course, Cas would never do that) and strokes a soothing palm down the length of his brother’s back, hushing breaths in his hair until that scent—still carrying last night’s horror—reverts back to something like normal. Dean presses a kiss to one blush-tinted ear. “You wanna clue me in on what’s going on?”

Sam sniffs, but his head makes no sign of moving back and he just loops his arms around Dean’s waist and holds on for dear life. Dean lets him.

“Sam. You know I can’t do anything if you don’t gimme a hint here. S’this about last night?” Wait a fucking second…“Did _Gabriel_ do something?” _Now_ he moves his brother off. “Sam? Sammy, you tell me right the fuck now, did that bastard touch you? I swear to fucking God, Sam, _tell me_.”

But that head just ducks and hides itself in Dean’s chest (how the hell it’s not indented with his face by now, Dean has no idea) and laces his fingers into the back of Dean’s Star Wars tee. Oh, fuck this shit…

Sam’s mouth moves against his collarbone, but Dean doesn’t catch it.

“Come again?”

Sam moves his mouth to Dean’s neck and sucks in a breath before saying, voice wet, “We should leave.”

Well that’s fucking it.

Dean’s out that goddamn door before another word is said between them and charging down the dumbass amount of stairs because that dick fucking _promised_. Christ, Dean sounds like a chick but this is seriously not fucking _fair_ , the guy gave his goddamn word and he tries something _now_? Seriously? He just saw the kid (he’s a fucking _kid_ , that bastard) hyperventilate from memories of alphas raping him and he tries it on with him _now_? Oh, fuck him. Fuck all of them; no one touches Dean’s brother and lives to tell the tale.

Dean storms into the kitchen once he’s scented them out and shoves Gabriel (fucking lying bastard, Sam’s pregnant what are they gonna do now?) until his spine collides heavily with the island in the centre of the kitchen, his thieving hand knocking over a mug of hot chocolate. Dean wraps his own into the molester’s collar and growls in his face.

Growling at an alpha. He’s been practising that particular skill a lot lately, what’s up with that? Maybe he’s just revelling in the fact that he’s allowed to…

“You fucking promised,” he hisses, shoving him back. “You promised you wouldn’t touch him, you bastard, what the fuck is _wrong_ with you?”

“Dean…” he starts, eyes rolling and hands coming up to gently touch with his own. ‘Gently’ Dean’s ass. He’s not some wilting flower, he’s not pregnant, he’s not some puppy in a stroller that needs his help. He’s twenty years old, for Christ’s sake, _no one_ treats him like a kid anymore. Especially not manipulating, cocky, lying, brother molester’s like this joker. Fuck him. _Fuck him_.

“ _Fuck you_ ,” he snarls, curling a lip to bare his teeth.

Yeah, Gabriel pauses at that, and so he should. Fucking messing with Dean’s brother, no one messes with Sam.

“Dean, calm down,” and that’s Castiel (he’s just as bad, he didn’t stop it, he didn’t keep his promise either). And then those are Cas’s hands on him, the same hands that make them food without expectations, the same hands that brush across his back in passing and run through his hair when he’s not thinking about it. The same hands that, just a month ago, Dean buried into for solace when he didn’t have his baby brother. Dean shrugs them off and growls at him as well.

Fuck, they shouldn’t have gotten comfortable; Sam should have listened to him from the get-go—the only people they can trust are each other, no one else because they just shit on you or rape you or torture you because that’s what Sam and Dean are. They’re wasted fucking whores.

“God, I told him not to trust you. I warned him we should have left weeks ago but he didn’t want to listen because he wanted to trust again. Do you get that? We’ve never had _anyone_ to trust and the one person he decides to believe in again tries to hurt him. Fuck you, Gabriel. He’s pregnant. He’s fucking _pregnant_ , you bastard, we can’t live on the streets, not now, where the hell are we supposed to run to?” Dean barks out a humourless sound. “You’ve killed him, you get that? And you’ve killed that goddamn pup, too.”

“Dean.”

And that’s it.

That one, wet, whispered, devastated little word and it’s all over because Sammy sounds distraught. Shit.

Gabriel’s eyes are wide when Dean leaves them—but his fists stay bunched with fabric at his throat. Sam’s stood a few metres off; half hidden behind Castiel (fuck him, getting in the way of Dean’s family) the edges of his body fuzzy from trembling so hard, his cheeks wet with tear tracks. Goddamn it, this bastard’s gonna pay.

Dean growls back to Gabriel again, whose hands are now beside his head in calm placation. Yeah, well, too little too late. He should have kept them to his fucking self in the first place. “I’m gonna kill you, I _swear_ —”

“Dean.” It’s barked this time. Dean glances round for the second time to scan over his brother, now stepped out from behind Cas’ dark form, toeing closer as they connect. “Stop it. Please.”

Dean stops. Dean steps back with another glare at the molester before his retreat and takes his own hands from his shirt—Gabriel pulls it back down straight but his eyes don’t leave him. Dean wants to snarl but Sammy told him to stop.

“Sam…” he starts but fuck if he knows how to finish that sentence. He moves away from Gabriel and over to his brother (Christ, he’s literally barefoot and pregnant, his tee rucked slightly from the slowly growing curve of his stomach, his jeans too big on a scrawny frame and his hair messed completely from running his hands through it. He looks terrified. He looks like _Sam_ ).

“He didn’t,” Sam says, gulping in breaths, his eyes specifically avoiding Gabriel’s at apparently all cost. “He didn’t do anything. Don’t be mad at him, it’s not his fault.”

Gabriel sighs from behind Dean, “Kiddo, it’s not anyone’s _fault_ —”

“You don’t talk to him,” Dean hisses, glaring.

“Dean, please. I just…I mean. I, uh.”

“Sam.” Dean’s beside him then, his hands on the sides of that face, peering into those big owl eyes. “What happened?”

Sam glances at Castiel, peering round Dean to peek at Gabriel before looking back up at his brother and visibly gulping. He sucks in a breath.

He mutters again.

Dean huffs, “What?”

“I kissed him.”

Manipulating bastard twisted it round in Sam’s head, that’s what they all did, made him think he wanted it, made him think he needs it like some helpless pup…

“He didn’t touch me, Dean. I kissed him.”

“Sammy…”

Dean whirls, letting his brother go in the process. “I told you not to talk to him!”

Gabriel’s jaw snaps shut.

“Dean,” Alpha says, Castiel, using his fucking _alpha_ voice on him. That bastard…

“Don’t you da—”

“Dean, you need to calm down now. For yourself and your brother, it’s not good for you, please. Calm down.”

Shit. Dick move.

“Thank you. Sam, do you want to explain what’s going on here? I think it might be best for everyone.” Sam turns wild eyes up at the alpha. “It’s okay. You’re safe Sam.”

Christ, Dean wants to throw up watching Sam deflate with that alpha authority; all the tension draining out until he’s just blinking around at everyone, exhaustion setting in. Dean grimaces against his own relaxation, but he’s too fucking tired to fight it right now. Castiel’s gonna pay for this one.

And then Sam just bursts. “I’m sorry I forced myself on you. I shouldn’t have…it was so dumb and I know it was wrong, I just…I’m sorry. I get it if you want us to leave. I-I won’t blame you or anything…”

Fuck this kid. God, Dean needs to wrap him up in his arms and hold him tight, curl around him and keep him away from those bastards in his head, away from Gabriel. This shouldn’t even be happening.

Gabriel sighs behind them.

“Sam,” he starts, and Dean can hear him moving closer before (hopefully) thinking the better of it and keeping Dean a firm titanium wall between them. Yeah, now he won’t take advantage, not with Dean here. “Kiddo, I don’t blame you for anything. Jesus, Sam, it’s not like you pinned me down and…right, let’s not go there. What I mean is, you only kissed me. It’s not the end of the world, bucko, I already told you weeks ago I like you. I’m not angry. I don’t want you to leave. Okay?”

But Sam just blinks. “You were angry,” he whispers. “You were angry with me.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Gabriel’s scent changes and Dean flinches on instinct, zipping over to Sam’s side in an instant and just being an entity beside him, familiar and warm. Home. “I told you before. It would take a hell of a lot more than a kiss to get me angry with you Sam. I promise you that.”

Sam curls into Dean’s body and that’s the highlight of this whole shitfest. Dean bows into him gratefully, all the while pinning Gabriel in a steadfast gaze, glaring in warning: that’s close enough.

“Dean. I did promise and I still do. I won’t lay a finger on your brother until he wants me to--outrightly and not just on instinct. I promise you Dean. You don’t have to leave. You’re as safe here as you were four weeks ago, I can assure you of that. Me and Castiel…we’re gonna take care of you—both of you.” Dean glares and opens his mouth to resist but Gabriel lifts a hand and beats him to it, if not only shocking Dean into compliance with his out of character seriousness. “Not like that.” He smirks. “I know you don’t want carers or anything, and I know you don’t need it. But we want to, right Cas? If only to satisfy our alpha neediness.” He sobers up quickly. “I’m sorry for letting this happen. But you’re both safe and looked after here. I vow.” He winks with a hand on his heart.

Well…crap.

Dean nudges into Sam’s grip then, ducking his head down beside his baby brothers but keeping his eyes locked to the ‘promising alpha’ ahead of him. He feels more than hears Castiel shift up beside them, feels a warm hand connect with his arm but he doesn’t pull away. Not even when another body slots beside his and his brother’s does he protest, all the way until he’s wrapped tight in a strong alpha grip with another nose in his hair, nudging it aside for easy access to the scent.

And, damn him, he doesn’t even complain when Gabriel joins them. How screwed up is that?

But it only takes a few more minutes of scenting (like a real fucking family) and nuzzling in one tight ball of _alphaomegafamilyhome_ before Dean sighs into the conjoined air and rolls his eyes.

“You know, this is really sappy.”

***

Gabriel’s pretty sure he got off real easy with the whole Dean thing. Yeah, okay, sure, he could’ve snapped the dudes neck in the exact same time it took him to pin Gabriel to the worktop, but where would that lead them? One eternally depressed little omega with the softest fucking lips in the world and a dead dude Gabriel was starting to seriously like. Sure they bicker but it’s banter really. And Gabriel does. He likes him.

Christ, he likes him even more now, how fucked is that? But he protected Gabriel’s omega like _that_ and who the hell could ask for more? Growly little shit he is.

Dammit he needs to piss. He’s been holding it in for the last forty minutes for the sake of their little bundle of protection on the carpet and the scent of omegaalphafamily is like a freaking toxin, he couldn’t have left the space if he tried. But he’s pretty sure peeing on them would be a step too far down the canine route than he’s willing to take right now, so fuck it, this needs to be done.

A litany of groans escapes the mound of bodies pilled around him when he nudges Sam’s head from his thigh, Dean’s shoulder from his own and Cas’s legs from over him and he can’t distinguish one from the other. God, why does he have to leave _now_?

“Trust me, I’ll be right back,” he grins, running a quick hand through Sam’s hair and eliciting another purr (four in just over an hour and holy fuck that’s a world record) before shooting off to the nearest bathroom.

Christ, he should’ve just kissed him back. If Dean was going to go apeshit anyway, he might as well have given him something to go apeshit for, right? And Gabe just totally wasted what could’ve been the best kiss of his entire life on nothing.

Damn, but that’s not true, is it? Well, the best kiss so far, damn straight, but Gabriel’s saving The Best Kiss for when they’re curled together, by themselves and perfect, Sam slick with want and Gabriel producing the biggest knot the world’s ever seen. Yeah. Perfect.

For now though, he slinks back out into the living room and onto the cream carpet, observing the patch where the coffee table used to be before they somehow shoved it aside in the struggle and ended up tied there. He finds Sam’s beautiful little body in the framework and aims for that, tugging Dean’s hand to weave through his own on the way and launching Cas’s legs back over him before gently cupping Sam’s cheek and uplifting him onto his chest. Sam blinks big eyes up at him and Gabe smiles, stroking his free hand through the mess of hair. Gabe likes it like this: messy and out of control. It makes it easier to ruffle. And tugging it slightly brings out a purr that sends Gabriel’s alpha into an overdrive he’s pretty sure he’s never felt before. He doesn’t exactly want to consider what that might mean.

Gabriel doesn’t fall asleep but the others do. Sam goes first, his big eyes sinking lower and lower until he just drops from the world, his head tilting until his ear is nudged against Gabriel’s breastplate and vibrating with sleepy hums. Next goes Dean, begrudgingly so, his hand clenching and unclenching in Gabriel’s before Gabe squeezes it for attention, winks at that suspicious green gaze, presses his lips to Dean’s forehead before the omega nuzzles closer and tugs Cas with him. Cas goes when Dean does, wrapping him up in his arms with his head to Dean’s neck in a permanent scent that probably just lulls him to sleep. Gabe gets that.

Gabriel doesn’t sleep, but he doesn’t try to. He’s too busy with his family surrounding him, watching them and studying them (okay, so that’s creepy, but what they don’t know can’t hurt them) stroking over Sam’s face and head like it’s made of the most precious substance in all of creation, and fuck, it pretty much is. Somewhere around the three hour mark, Gabriel just pulls him up to lay across him fully, filling Sam’s leftover gap with his own body and nudging it against Dean.

Well, this was a quick fucking turnaround, huh?

Less than, what, twelve hours ago, Gabriel had stormed into their bedroom wielding his gun because he was convinced his boys were being tortured right there in their bed, in _his house_. Sam was a fucking mess and Gabriel didn’t know what to do, there was nothing he could do aside from stand and watch, let Dean deal with it or risk fucking his omega up for life with some brand new pushy alpha.

And then he’d woken up all shy and soft like the sweetest thing that ever fucking walked the earth and he smiled like he was worried he’d be hit and he got embarrassed and he cringed and Gabriel loved him more with every single one…

Until he’d kissed him. Gabriel’s not entirely sure why he froze, besides the previous reasoning of ‘waiting for the right time’ and all that crap. Sam felt…so freaking good, Gabriel should have swept him into his arms and legged it up to his bedroom, strung his baby out on the bed and knotted him like no tomorrow. And he probably would have done if he’d complied to instincts. That…would not have been good.

Next, he nearly got murdered by a furious, betrayed Dean with his hands all but around his throat and crying, and the next second he’s holding his hand, kissing his forehead and nuzzling into his hairline.

Christ, this was a weird one.

“Gabe?”

Gabriel blinks down at the voice—like dripping chocolate and candy canes. He smiles at him. “Yeah, Sammy?”

“Thanks,” he says, scooting up and sticking his nose to Gabe’s throat. “For, uh…for everything. Thank you.”

And Gabriel smiles. “It was nothing, don’t mention it,” with a wink, “go back to sleep, baby.”

Sam nods and drops his eyes closed, lashes dancing over Gabriel’s skin.

Gabriel waits until he’s asleep before he goes on.

“And Sam? I love you, sweetheart. Don’t you ever leave me, you hear? I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have rewritten this story!!!!!!! Go, read that one!!!!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [This Unfamiliar Road](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2372975) by [J3 (CaseMatthews)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaseMatthews/pseuds/J3)




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